His Songbird
by Corncakes
Summary: The people of Boonesborough must face the challenge and danger of a drought while Mingo faces a challenge of his own.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The following work has been written solely for the enjoyment of fans and not for monetary profit. The rights to the characters initially created for the Daniel Boone series belong to 20th Century Fox and Fess Parker. All other characters are of the author's own creation. No copyright violation is intended.

His Songbird

SUMMER

Chapter 1

The warming glow of an August day found two friends walking through a cornfield. 'If a Kentucky sunset doesn't take your breath away, then you're no Kentuckian.' Daniel Boone had been heard to say. This year, however, the sunshine had not worked in their favor. The tall buckskin-clad frontiersman ambled through the field of corn by his cabin---his Cherokee blood brother walked beside him.

"It does not look promising, Daniel." the handsome, copper-skinned native remarked in his Oxford-educated tongue. "These stalks should be to my shoulders by now and much greener."

The leaves on the plants were dried up and withered as they both inspected the sad yield. Corn was a staple in the young growing land they called home---Kentucky.

"Too dry, Mingo," Daniel answered. "It's the same with the beans, peas, and the greens. Good thing we had an early spring plantin' and harvest, when there was plenty of rain. We might be lookin' at a long, hungry winter if we don't start to ration a little bit now."

All the people of Boonesborough were in the same predicament. A warm and rainy spring saw the settlers planting crops with the expectations of a good harvest. But the rains slowed in late June. July was dry, and August even drier. The harvest was a meager one, especially the corn crop that was used in many different ways.

Mingo picked up a puny-looking ear of corn. The kernels were shriveled instead of plump and juicy. "I am not certain even the wild geese would eat this." He tossed it to the ground. "It _will_ be a long winter, Daniel, with no vegetables."

The big man nodded, as they walked toward the Boone cabin. "Becky's already pickled some of the early beans and beets dried some peas. She put up some strawberry and cherry preserves even dried some of the cherries."

Both tall men sat down on the edge of the porch and stretched out their legs. The warm wind that kicked up the dust at their feet only reminded them of the drought the settlement was facing.

"We better have Cincinnatus put in some extra flour, sugar, molasses, and make sure we keep the chickens happy and safe from varmints," Daniel said with a smile on his face. "And see if we can find us a couple more milk cows. We might be eatin' custard all winter."

"And get as much game as we can to salt and make jerky with," Mingo added. He nudged his friend in the ribs. "The only one who will be happy about not having enough greens for the winter will be…."

"Israel!" They both answered in unison.

Israel Boone was Daniel's youngest, a blond-haired bundle of energy, who regularly made it a point to state his opinions on eating vegetables. "Criminently, Pa, you'd think we was rabbits the way you and Ma go on 'bout eatin my greens," the youngster would say.

"Chota has not fared any better," Mingo said, as he looked in the direction of his people's village. "My uncle Menewa told me their harvest would be just enough to get them through the winter, or he would surely share with the people of Boonesborough."

"Well, that's right nice of your uncle, Mingo," Daniel said. "I expect we'll just have to build us a couple more root cellars, and put away what we can of the beets, bush beans and peas we put in early. At least we got two plantins' out of them before the drought hit us."

The Cherokee warrior stood and gazed at the clouds. He crossed his arms on his chest, and then turned back to his friend. "It is a peculiar thing, Daniel, how different weather can be from one valley to the next. One day, I foresee great minds studying those differences, much more than they are studied now."

Daniel's crooked smile appeared on his face. "What do you mean, Mingo? "Poor Richard's" been studyin' the weather for years."

The Cherokee rolled his eyes. "As much as I respect Mr. Franklin and his experiments, I believe these scholars will be looking at the sun, the moon, the wind and the water, and how they relate to the changing of the seasons. You know I do recall…"

Mingo was in a more talkative mood than usual. Big Daniel Boone felt an Oxford lecture coming his way. He stood up next to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder, cutting the lecture short. "You got your head in them stars again, Mingo. As much as I'd like to hear about those _educated_ men, we got to figure out what we're gonna do without a healthy corn crop."

Mingo looked out over the stalks of the sweet, yellow vegetable that were withering in the late summer sun. "Daniel, I do not wish to entertain the thought of a winter without Rebecca's prize corn pudding."

"And let us not forget your prize-winning corn cakes," Daniel's face lit up in jest.

The Indian's scowl was a false one.

"Daniel now is neither the time nor the place to malign my cooking."

"Now hold on there, Mingo, I disagree. I think anytime and anyplace is a good time to '_me-lign' _your cookin'. "

The big man had succeeded in escaping his learned friend's lecture on weather.

"I will remember that the next time you are starving on the trail, Daniel Boone," the Cherokee's dimples gave him away.

"Speakin' of cookin', Mingo, you are stayin' for supper, ain't you? I think Becky's makin' Irish stew."

The Cherokee groaned as his hands went to his stomach.

"Oh, Daniel, not tonight. You know I cannot stay. Why couldn't Rebecca be preparing pea soup or liver, instead of her Irish stew?"

Mingo's nose wrinkled, "I despise _those_ dishes, but you know how I love her Irish stew." He thought about it, and then picked up his rifle and pack. "No, I must be on my way."

Daniel placed his hand on his friend's forehead, as he would one of his own children.

"Hmmmm, don't feel feverish to me."

The Cherokee rolled his eyes, "Daniel, must you always be so flippant?"

"Yes, Mingo. I'm afraid I must." the big man was mocking him. "But don't be foolin' me. You're gonna stop at Wild Geese Lake and catch some of them trout we saw the last time we was there."

Knowing he would not get in the last word, Mingo turned toward Boonesborough.

"Perhaps I will. It is on the way to my final destination. Menewa asked me to sit in council with Chief Standing Bear of the Choctaw. It seems some of our young braves crossed the river that divides Chota from Choctaw land, to hunt. He wants me to assure Standing Bear that it will not happen again. But first I need to stop and see Cincinnatus for some supplies." He put his nose up in the air and sniffed.

"Oh, Rebecca Boone, and your Irish stew. It will be all I can think of until I return."

Daniel chuckled at his friend's disappointment.

"And when will that be? We've got a lot of work to do before the snow flies ya know."

Mingo waved as he started toward the fort. "I will be gone for only a week or two, Daniel," he called. "I will be back in time to help you dig the new root cellars."

"I'll try and save you some stew!" Daniel shouted back and watched as Mingo waved again in disgust as well as hunger.


	2. Chapter 2

SUMMER

Chapter 2

By the time Mingo reached the settlement, the sun had been down for much more than an hour. Lantern light glowed from all the cabins inside the fortress walls. It was past closing time for the establishment owned by Cincinnatus Cicero Jones, but there was still a light in his window. The grizzled, bearded colonial was one of the original settlers to travel to Kentucky with Daniel Boone. He ran the only tavern and general store for miles, and did his fair share of hunting, fishing, and doctoring when it was needed.

Mingo entered slowly. He knew the squeak of the door would announce to the proprietor that he had another patron at the late hour. The Cherokee expected a waspish greeting from the older man he called friend.

"Oh, it's only you, Mingo," the crusty voice came from behind the bar. He could see the painted on smile disappear from the tired tavern keeper's face.

"And a hearty good evening to you as well, Cincinnatus," the Cherokee jibed at him. "You are keeping late hours tonight." As always, he leaned his rifle in one of the two worn down notches on the wall by the door. The other notch belonged to Daniel's rifle better known to all as Ticklicker, that is when the big frontiersman happened to be in the tavern.

"Not me," the bartender answered and motioned to a table in the back where two big men sat drinking. "Them!" The ragged cloth he ran lightly over the bar just missed Mingo's elbows coming to rest on the rough surface.

"Cincinnatus! Two more ales…now!" the heavier of the two men shouted. The table shook with the pounding of their tankards.

"Just hold on to your suspenders," Cincinnatus shouted. "I'm waitin' on another customer here." He leaned over to Mingo and mumbled, "Like they _need_ another."

"I'm sorry, Mingo," he said. "Would you like an ale?" Cincinnatus' eyes remained on the two in the back.

Mingo could see concern in his friend's face.

"Not tonight, Cincinnatus, thank you," he answered.

But the older man's mind was elsewhere.

"Comin' right up," and the bartender drew an ale from the nearest barrel.

Cincinnatus could handle most any customer who gave him trouble. These two were obviously rubbing the proprietor the wrong way. Mingo picked up the unsolicited mug of ale. He leaned back on the bar and took a second look at the two ruffians. From their attire and the telltale odor in the room, he surmised they were trappers. The majority of the tavern patrons who weren't permanent residents of Boonesborough were of that persuasion. They made their living in the wilderness…refinement was not high on their list of priorities.

These two were big, burly, and loud; especially loud. One was bearded, one was not.

"New faces, Cincinnatus?" Mingo asked while sipping his ale.

The bartender's eyes returned to his patron at the bar.

"Huh? Ah, no, Mingo. They come in two, three times a year. The bigger one with the red hair, the one doin' all the shoutin'? Name's Wade Tolliver, the other is Merle Anderssen, Swede for short. They're ornery, but they bring in a pretty fair cache of furs or other goods to trade." He leaned over, "And usually by the time they leave, they've spent most of the money I give 'em for their merchandise right here in the tavern."

The quiet cackle that came from the businessman spoke of his profit.

"They're just a little louder than usual tonight and not about to leave, even though I told them several times I was closin' up."

Wade Tolliver was the bigger in heft of the two, 5' 10" and over two hundred twenty pounds. Mingo observed that ten pounds of that was unshaven whiskers and dirt. Swede was taller, but not as bulky; blond-hair, blue eyes, carrying a pistol in his belt.

Tolliver ambled up to the bar and slammed down two empty tankards.

"Cincinnatus! You gonna get us our ales or just keep talking to this filthy redskin here?"

Mingo was used to the growls of white men and their insults. At times, he let the insults go by, and at other times, he did not. This was one of those times when he did not. His elbows remained on the bar, his eyes on the rim of the mug he idly ran his finger around.

"Filthy sir, I beg to differ," the Cherokee remarked slowly. "I bathe everyday-- something _you_ might want to think about doing very soon."

Mingo's polished verbiage and tone told Cincinnatus it was time to start clearing off the bar.

"Your buckskins reek of every meal you have eaten for the last week," Mingo continued.

The insult escaped the big man, but not Cincinnatus, who had to look away.

"Our drinks!" Tolliver barked, and grabbed the smaller man's arm, very nearly pulling him over the bar.

"Now just a doggone minute," Cincinnatus squeaked.

Mingo rose to his full height, easily taller than Tolliver. He took a quick glance at the Swede who still sat at their table. Mingo could see the other man was watching the happenings at the bar. "You know, Cincinnatus I do believe I was correct when I first came in and saw these gentlemen. Their less than immaculate clothing and telltale bouquet only adds a higher class to your regular clientele." Mingo's dark eyes glared as he took hold of the trapper's wrist and squeezed until Tolliver let go of Cincinnatus "You, sir, need to have more respect for your proprietor," he said, releasing him.

Tolliver shook his hand to get the feeling back into it.

Mingo continued. "If Cincinnatus announced that it is closing time, as he told me he has, then it is indeed closing time."

Tolliver drew himself up slowly, but only came to the Cherokee's chin. He was bulkier than Mingo, but not as muscular.

" Are you talkin' to me, redskin?"

Mingo smiled wryly. "I have been, sir, ever since you approached the bar and insisted on accosting the owner."

"I ain't costing him anything. I just grabbed his arm," Tolliver yipped.

Mingo's rolling eyes went to Cincinnatus, then back to Tolliver. "I believe, Mr. Tolliver, that Cincinnatus informed you that your last drink was just that…..your _last_ drink. It is time for you and your comrade to depart and come back another day. Tomorrow perhaps, when you are both sober and thirsty once more."

Mingo's voice was calm, not so his stance.

"We're thirsty right now, Injun!" Tolliver's loud voice signaled for his partner to join in the conversation. Merle Anderssen got up from the table, and slowly circled behind the Cherokee.

He was not unnoticed.

Tolliver's now-bold demeanor made it clear that he thought they had the upper hand.

"You're Boone's Injun, ain't you?" he sneered as he turned facing Mingo head on.

'Not another one,' Mingo thought to himself. He ever so slightly moved the full tankard of ale toward Cincinnatus, who promptly disposed of it.

"Well, Mr. Tolliver, that is one of the many colorful appellations I have been labeled with. Although I do prefer my given name, which is Mingo. But if that proves too difficult for you to remember, then I suppose Boone's Injun is what I will have to be satisfied with."

He saw the redhead's eyes leave his and look to Anderssen. Mingo could feel the man behind him move in closer.

"You like using them fancy words don't you, half-breed?" Tolliver said.

The Cherokee's eyebrows arched in growing discontent. At the mention of the word half-breed, Cincinnatus took the opportunity to clear away anything in the immediate area that was breakable or valuable.

Wade Tolliver continued.

"Wonder if you fight as pretty as you talk."

Mingo smiled again. "In my estimation, sir, there is only one way to find out."

Anderssen took one step too close to the Cherokee and received an elbow to the gullet for his efforts. He fell on the bar gasping for air. Tolliver threw a right hand to the Cherokee's jaw, but was too slow for it to connect. Mingo ducked, and threw a roundhouse left that sent the burly trapper to the floor. Swede recovered enough to grab Mingo around the neck, but equilibrium and muscle were on the Cherokee's side. He flipped the blond-haired trapper over his head, knocking Tolliver down a second time. Both drunken men sat on the floor dazed as well as amazed at the quickness, strength, and agility of their single opponent.

Mingo nodded at Cincinnatus who stood holding a glass lantern in one hand and the mirror that had been hanging on the wall in the other. Out of the corner of his eye, the Cherokee saw Anderssen go for his pistol. The Swede yelped at the crack of a bullwhip that wrapped around his hand.

"You do not want to do that," Mingo stated, the whip in hand.

The pistol fell to the floor.

"Now then, stand up, both of you. Cincinnatus, open the door please."

Mingo picked up the pistol and tapped on it until it was empty of powder. Then he handed it back to the tall Swede.

"Someday, Injun," he mumbled as he rubbed the bloody whip mark on his wrist.

"Oh, so you _are_ able to speak, Mr. Anderssen," Mingo's voice rang with sarcasm as he escorted them to the front door of the tavern.

"Come back tomorrow, boys," Cincinnatus shouted, as he watched the two trappers walk reluctantly out into the night air.

The tavern keeper breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door. Mingo picked up the overturned tables and benches for him.

"Hee, hee. I ain't never seen a better confrontation than that one, Mingo. I don't know which confused 'em most, your words or your fists. But I sure do thank you. Land o'mighty, that left you got has a kick like my Kentucky Blue Thunder."

The tall Cherokee joined his friend at the bar. "Oh, they were quite inebriated, Cincinnatus. They might have put up a better fight had not the ale slowed their reactions. They are most likely pretty even-tempered when sober, I would venture."

"Mebbe so, Mingo, but you may want to watch your back while they're still in Boonesborough," the older man said.

"Well, I am not going to be in Boonesborough myself for a few days. Did you not remember what I am here for, Cincinnatus?"

"Oh, by golly, where is my head? Got it right here for ya." The bartender reached behind him, and handed Mingo a square package wrapped in brown paper.

Mingo's nose wrinkled when he smelled it. He shook his head. "Yes, that is it,"

"Finest smoking' tobacco in all of Salem." Cincinnatus assured him.

"Chief Standing Bear will thank you, as will my uncle. A little peace offering from the chief of the Cherokee to the chief of the Choctaw. How much do I owe you, Cincinnatus?" Mingo opened his pack.

"Oh, no, you don't, Mingo. Not after what you just done for me. I'm much obliged, and if I can help keep the peace 'tween the Cherokee, the Choctaw and Boonesborough, it's well worth it."

Mingo reached over the bar and shook his older friend's hand. "That is very generous of you, Cincinnatus, thank you." He put the package in his pack.

"Now then, how about that ale, Mingo?" The tavern keeper started to pour one into a tankard.

"No, thank you, Cincinnatus. I have a long walk ahead of me tomorrow. I had better abstain this time." He nodded toward the filled mug, "But you go right ahead." The smile on his face was genuine.

"Don't mind if I do," the bearded man said and drank it dry. "Ahhhh. I'll sleep good tonight," he laughed as he belched.

"As will I," the Cherokee answered, "But not if I stay here talking all night. I had best be on my way. I will see you in a couple of weeks. I promised Daniel I would help him dig some more root cellars on my return. With this drought, we are going to need them."

Mingo headed toward the door; picking up his rifle, he held the brown package up in the air. "Thank you again, Cincinnatus, and good night."

" 'Night, Mingo," the older man waved.

As Mingo walked through the main gate of Boonesborough, he glanced back toward the tavern just in time to see the glow of the lantern dim in the window. He smiled to himself. His friend Cincinnatus would be in his nightshirt and asleep before Mingo reached his own camp and lodge on the outskirts of the settlement by Birch Tree River.


	3. Chapter 3

SUMMER

Chapter 3

It was a good day's walk from Boonesborough to the village of the Choctaw. Daniel was right as usual; Mingo _was_ planning to stop at Wild Geese Lake and catch some trout. For Mingo, trout was right at the top of the list with Rebecca's Irish stew and her molasses cookies.

The gift for Chief Standing Bear was safely stowed in his pack. Mingo knew he would be pleased. He also knew that Standing Bear was a wise leader, as was Chief Menewa of the Cherokee. The two elder Indians realized that to survive and keep their land, they had to learn to live in peace, and share the bounty of the land with the white man. Representing both the white man and the Cherokee, Mingo was honored to sit in council with the chief of the Choctaw.

Many and swift were his steps since he had left his lodge at first light. Now his stomach was telling him he should have eaten something before he left. He hoped to be dining on trout at mid-day.

Wild Geese Lake looked as it always did, calm and peaceful. It was a halfway stopping point between Boonesborough and the Choctaw village. In less than an hour, Mingo had four big trout roasting over a fire. The Cherokee ate his fill and left the rest for the bear he had seen signs of on the trail.

"Eat hearty, _u-do gv-ni-ge-yo-na_." he spoke in his Cherokee tongue. "Eat hearty, brother black bear."

The sun was high overhead as he started back on his journey. He and Daniel could cover more ground in one day than most men. Their knowledge of the Kentucky wilderness and being in good physical condition saw to that. Mingo knew he would reach the land of the Choctaw by late afternoon--in time to see one of the Kentucky sunsets Daniel loved. Also in time to share the evening meal in the lodge of Standing Bear. He hoped he would be able to provide the main course for the Choctaw chief and his family.

Mingo kept an eye out for a good sized white-tail deer as he walked. It is a pleasant day, he thought. The closer he got to the village he noticed how thick and green the vegetation was; a great difference to the dry, brown vegetation he had left back at Boonesborough. The apple trees had a good yield of fruit as did the blackberry bushes. There was no evidence of a drought in the valley the Choctaw called their home.

A meadow of long-stemmed daisies waved in the soft summer breeze. Honeybees and hummingbirds made quick work of the sweet nectar they offered. In the midst of the wildflowers, Mingo's tall figure lurked, crouching down, out of sight. The barrel of his long rifle traced the steps of a buck as it meandered into a clearing.

"One more," the Cherokee whispered, his finger ready to squeeze the cold metal trigger.

Quickly the animal jerked its head and was gone, with one wave of his white tail.

"What…?" Mingo moved his finger away from the trigger and lowered his rifle. He looked around to see what had alerted the deer.

"It was I," a sound as soft as the breeze that was blowing through his long, black hair spoke to him.

A vision of beauty as he had never seen before. She was a young Choctaw woman, skin the color of the earth and long black hair like his. She held a bouquet of wildflowers in her hand.

"I am sorry," she said to him. "I did not see you hiding among the daisies." A playful smile adorned her face and her voice had a whimsical tone. "It is not a place where one often finds a Cherokee warrior."

Mingo was still down on one knee, holding his rifle. Standing up, he saw she came only to his chin. He also saw that her eyes never left him as he stood. And her face, had the slightest blush to it.

"I beg your pardon," his strong voice failing him for the moment. "I thought it was only I and the white-tail here in the meadow." As his gaze met hers, he felt straighter, taller, and bolder. 'Cherokee warrior'--those words never sounded so gallant as when they came from her lips.

For the first time in a very long time, a woman had her effect on him.

Her eyes were the color of the first buds of spring, a soft hazel green. Mingo wanted to put his arms around her shapely form at that very moment. The propriety of a gentleman would not allow it.

"Beautiful flowers," he remarked.

"Handsome rifle," she answered back.

Their words tumbled over each other's with the innocent emotion of love at first sight. They both laughed at their shyness.

"I have seen you at my father's fire," she said. "You are called Mingo. Your mother was Cherokee and your father, English."

He nodded, "You know much about me, but I know nothing about you. What do they call you?"

She offered her hand, and he took it.

"I am called Songbird."

"Songbird?" he queried.

Smiling she answered him, "When I was an infant my mother and father said I made little chirping sounds like a baby bird. My mother would sing to quiet me, but all it did was make me want to sing with her."

The maiden was enchanting. Mingo thought.

"Your father is Standing Bear, chief of the Choctaw and your mother is Wildflower. I see now where your beauty comes from." Mingo told her.

On her wrist, she wore a bracelet, a plain band of braided leather. Hanging from it was a single flat, shiny stone, black in color. He could not make out what was etched on it.

"What is this?" He still held on to her hand.

Songbird turned it over to reveal a small bird with its mouth wide open in song, carved in white on the black stone.

"Ahhhh, _Songbird_," he remarked. "She is also beautiful. Is this your handiwork?"

"My brother, Running Deer," she told him. "I cannot remember a time when he was not drawing images. On the ground, carving on trees, on our lodges, on the walls of caves. He finds these stones, polishes them and puts images on them."

"He is very talented, your brother," Mingo told her as he admired the stone…..as well as her hand.

It felt _right_, her hand in his. Together, they walked to the edge of the meadow with no idea of the time that had passed. A well-worn trail through the woods ahead of them led to the Choctaw camp.

"Would you come have a meal with us this night?" she asked him.

Mingo nodded toward the now empty meadow.

"The deer I was hunting was going to be a gift for your father's table tonight."

She hid her smile. "And I frightened it away. I am sorry."

"No matter." Mingo opened his pack. "Do you think this fine big gobbler will do just as well?"

Songbird leaned into him and whispered. "My father will not tell you this, but his teeth are not as strong or as many as when he was younger. The meat of the turkey will be much easier for him to chew than venison."

"Splendid," Mingo said and closed his pack.

Songbird smelled the bouquet of wildflowers in her hand. "They are for my mother. She has always loved flowers of all kinds." Songbird looked back at the meadow of many colors. "I am happiest when I am here," she told him and walked toward the trail.

As am I, after this day. Mingo thought, and followed close behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

FALL

Chapter 4

The two weeks Mingo promised Daniel he would be gone, quickly turned into four and then five. October approached faster than Mingo realized with its warm days and cool nights. It wasn't the council between Mingo and Chief Standing Bear that kept him from returning to the settlement. Mingo conveyed well the feelings of his uncle, the Chief of the Cherokee about the young Cherokee braves. And Standing Bear understood the wanderlust of youth..

Truth be known, Mingo had more on his mind than going back to Boonesborough to dig root cellars.

He watched Songbird and Wildflower as they prepared the crops for winter storage. They used as much of each fruit or nut or vegetable as they could. Even the seeds; sunflower seeds, pumpkin and squash seeds were roasted for eating, saving out enough for the next year's planting.

They are two of a kind, she and her mother, he thought, beautiful on the inside and outside, and loving each other's company. It made him think of his own mother.

Mingo noticed when Songbird worked alongside Wildflower; she wore her black hair in braids. The times she was not working, it fell down to the small of her back, long and shining, ebony. He imagined it was as soft as any fine silk he had seen in London.

The maiden was not too short, nor was she too tall. Her buckskin dress, not only complimented her soft, green eyes, and nut-brown skin, but her form as well. Older than most of the already-married young women of her tribe, her mother told him she was betrothed to a brave, Choctaw warrior named Swift Water. "They were very much in love," Wildflower told him, "But he was killed in a battle between the Creek and the Shawnee. She grieved many, many moons, Mingo, until now."

Could it be happening to him again? He wondered. It had been many years since a woman like Songbird had entered his life.

Mingo found he wanted to spend more time with her and get to know her better.

With the abundance of crops in their valley, the Choctaw welcomed an extra pair of arms and a strong back to help with the yield. Mingo was glad to offer his assistance. In gratitude, Standing Bear said he would send two pack horses each to Boonesborough and to Chota after all was harvested and stored for the winter. There was enough corn, squash, pumpkins, beans, apples, nuts, and berries to share with their neighbors whose crops had suffered from the drought.

All of Standing Bear's people helped in the harvest, young and old, men and women. The men dug two new root cellars, while the women readied the crops for storage. The days were hot and the work was hard. Mingo labored alongside Running Deer, a Choctaw warrior and Songbird's brother, two years older than she.

Just as she was the image of their mother, so Running Deer was of their father. Tall and broad of shoulder, the future chief of the Choctaw liked and respected the older Mingo. He also liked that his sister showed more than a little interest in the Cherokee warrior.

* * *

It was late afternoon and Songbird took notice of Mingo as she had since the harvest began. When the day's toil was finished, he would go to the river to bathe before the evening meal. She watched as his head disappeared below the knoll that led to the water and waited until she saw it appear again on his return.

His long, black hair, wet from the swim, stuck to his bare back. He let the warmth of the sun dry him before he put his shirt back on, but never would he enter the village bare-chested, respectful of the women there.

His modesty captivated her.

That was why she watched him from afar, so as not to embarrass him, _and_ for her own delight in his stately good looks. Songbird remembered that first meeting in the meadow and the feeling she had when he stood up. Tall and handsome, wide at the shoulders, lean at the waist, and deep brown eyes that kept her from saying anything intelligent to him Songbird laughed as she recalled how hard it was to regain her composure before he took notice.

She could not help being a woman.

* * *

The day's was work done. Songbird was hiding behind a lodge out of Mingo's sight. She watched him on his way back from the river. Running Deer sneaked up behind her and spoke. "He is pleasant to your eyes, Sister?" he asked, with a smile as playful as her own.

The young woman jumped at her brother's voice and tried to hide her fascination with the handsome stranger she had met only days before.

"He is not," she answered coyly. Her feelings were easily hidden in the tone of her voice, but not in the sparkle of her eyes and glow on her face. She could feel her cheeks getting warmer and warmer.

Running Deer pointed to the Cherokee who stood in the distance, "Mingo is a brave warrior and a good man. I would be honored, Sister, to have him as a brother by marriage."

She turned abruptly, "Such talk, Brother! I hardly know him." She turned back to see Mingo coming toward them. Songbird knew he was not aware they were there. When Mingo got close enough, Running Deer pushed her into the unsuspecting Cherokee.

Mingo's only response was to catch her in his arms. The shirt that hung over his shoulder fell to the ground. Quickly he picked it up and put it on over his head. She saw his face reddened from what was a lack of propriety with a young woman he had known for such a short time.

"I beg your pardon. Are you all right? Did you trip?" he asked.

As Songbird regained her balance, her hand lightly brushed across his shirt that was open in the front. She felt the warmth come to her cheeks again, but did not move her hand away--for a moment.

"No," she answered crisply, and looked in the direction that Running Deer had fled. "I did not trip. I was on my way to the meadow to watch the sun go down."

She went for a walk this time each evening.

"Would you like some company?" he asked her.

"I would, very much," was her reply, and she offered her hand like the first day they had met.

And he took it.

* * *

Each day when the work was finished, Mingo made certain his bathing was done before sunset. He had been watching her as well and knew she went to the meadow before sundown. They walked together watching as the Great Spirit painted the sky a different shade each evening. After, he would walk her back to the lodge of her parents and go on to Running Deer's lodge where he slept.

The path to the meadow is not long enough, Mingo thought. It was their only time to be alone and he longed for more of that time.

This day would be the fourth sunset they watched together and he had not yet kissed her. The gentleman inside him would not permit it. Mingo wondered if Songbird even knew what a kiss was.

This sundown he would find out.

An army of sunflowers, some short, some tall, guarded the meadow. Very soon, their seeds would be ripe and ready for roasting. for now they served well as sentries for the privacy sought by the couple.

"Come over here, little one," he said to her. She came barely up to his chin.

"Let me see just how much you tower over this poor, tiny sunflower who struggles among these giants to get its share of the rays' warmth."

The maiden walked to him, "That is how I feel next to you," she said, poking her finger into his chest. "_You_ are a giant," and grinned at him.

"Wait until you meet Daniel," he answered.

"Now let me see," He put his hands on her shoulders and positioned her in between a tall sunflower and the shorter one.

"There we are," Mingo said.

He was painting his own picture. His lovely Songbird in between the two beautiful sunflowers.

Mingo smiled and stepped back. "Almost right," he said. Then gently cupping her face in his hands he moved in closer to her.

Innocently she backed away, "Is there something on my chin?"

"Shh, shh, shh," Mingo whispered, and softly touched his lips to hers. He leaned back and opened his eyes. Songbird's eyes were open too, but she did not move. Softly caressing her cheeks with his fingers, he closed his eyes and kissed her again, longer this time. When finally his lips left hers, he opened his eyes.

Hers were closed.

* * *

Under a spell of sweet surrender she opened her eyes and smiled at him. Nothing in her life had ever felt like this. A fever with no sickness, a pounding in her heart at his nearness, his touch. Where had it come from?

"Is this Cherokee or is this English?" she whispered.

"This is _Mingo_," he answered. "It is called a kiss. Does my Songbird like it?"

_'My Songbird,' _she heard him say. Before he could step back, Songbird put her arms around his neck, pulled herself in close and kissed him.

It would be the first of many.

That night as they returned to the village, they no longer held hands. Her arms were around his waist, his, around her shoulders. The two of them held each other as close as they could.

Her parents saw what was happening and were glad.


	5. Chapter 5

FALL

Chapter 5

With every sunset walk, Mingo and Songbird took to the meadow, they grew closer. He told her of his boyhood, and his Cherokee mother, Talota. How hard it was to face her death alone as a little boy. Then to be taken by his English father to a strange and unfriendly place called London.

"Do you have any brothers and sisters?" she asked him.

Mingo hesitated then answered.. "A half-brother. He is gone now, but that is for another time to tell." Her nod meant that it was all right.

"And you," he said. "How is it one as beautiful as you has not married? With babies at your feet and a brave warrior in your lodge?" He wondered if she would tell him about Swift Water.

"I was promised to an honored Choctaw warrior. Swift Water was his name, but he died in battle. His death left my heart cold and lonely for a long time. I never thought I would find anyone who could fill his moccasins….until now."

With every talk, with every kiss, Mingo knew this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But many were his reservations. He was older than she, and he was half-English. The Redcoats and his father, at any time, could accuse him of treason to the Crown and place a price on his head.

As a token of friendship, Standing Bear asked his two children to accompany Mingo, first to Chota and then to Boonesborough. They would deliver two pack horses each, filled with corn, fruits and other vegetables to help overcome the drought that plagued the Cherokee and the settlers of Boonesborough. Before they embarked on their journey of sharing, Mingo planned to have a talk with her.

* * *

The long days of summer now gave way to autumn's precious few hours of sunlight. As the couple walked to the meadow, the hues of the setting day star mirrored the color of the leaves falling at their feet. With the last sliver of light that dipped below the horizon, the air turned cool. Mingo always took off his coat and put it around Songbird's shoulders.

She would not tell him of such a silly womanly thing, but she reveled in its warmth---his warmth. And in its smell---his smell. The young Choctaw maiden was so much in love, nights were endless until morning when she would see him once more.

Songbird respected his pride and would wait for him to say the words she wanted to hear. But it must be he, she told herself, who asks the question.

One afternoon Mingo and Songbird sat under a big maple tree at the edge of the meadow. Already his coat was keeping her warm as her eyes fell on his bare muscled arms. They were the color of the oak leaves that were beginning to carpet the ground, along with elm, birch, and maple.

Mingo was quieter than usual. She watched him break the stem of a maple leaf into little pieces. Then he did the same with the body of the leaf. No words had been spoken since they sat down. When he reached for a second leaf to destroy, she put her hand on his arm.

"Something is bothering my Cherokee warrior. What is it?"

Taking a breath of the crisp autumn air, he stretched his arms over his head, then wrapped them around her and smiled.

"You see more in me than I do in myself, little one," he said. "Do you remember when I told you my father was an English land surveyor?"

She nodded yes.

"He is much more than just a land surveyor. He is an English earl, and now known as Lord Dunsmore, Governor of Virginia."

"So you _are _of royal blood?" she grinned. She had asked him the same question when he told her of his mother, Talota, a Cherokee princess.

Mingo rolled his eyes. "So he would like to think," he mumbled. "I told you I returned to my Cherokee roots, leaving London far behind. What I failed to tell you was that it was not on the best of terms that I left my father. He wished me to carry on his English title----I did _not_ wish it."

The leaves rustled in the brisk autumn breeze. Songbird snuggled in closer to him. Her back leaned against him as she gazed up to the sky.

"And so you came home, to the life and the people you had missed and who had missed you."

"Yes," he answered. "I came home. But in the eyes of my father and the Crown I turned my back on them."

"And this concerns you?"

"It has never concerned me--until now."

"Why?" she asked quietly

"At any time they could accuse me of treason and put a price on my head." He hesitated. "And that could put the ones I care for in danger."

Songbird sat up and turned facing him. She saw the worried look in his eyes.

"If you speak of me, Mingo, do not. It does not bother me as long as I am with you."

She put her hand on his chest. "Your heart has been empty for a very long time, since the day you were taken from your people as a young boy. Mine has been empty since the death of Swift Water. Now mine is full again and when yours is full again, you will say the words to me."

"The pebble will be thrown and I will say yes," she stated.

The pretty young maiden turned and nestled back into his embrace.

"Until then, I will wait."

* * *

Mingo sat and thought and thought.

Songbird sat and waited.

He was still troubled.

"I am also older than you," he remarked.

Songbird moved not one inch. "And I am younger than you. What does it matter?"

Mingo knew she could feel his stomach twitch in a silent chuckle at her convictions.

For every one of his doubts, she had an answer. For every one of his fears, she was a comfort. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and they watched a gray squirrel as it struggled to remember where it had hidden its cache of acorns. The dark of night began to surround the meadow. Mingo and Songbird stayed longer than usual. They waited for the new moon to rise and light the trail back to the village.

Both wished, secretly that the moon would never rise and they could stay in each others arms like this forever.


	6. Chapter 6

FALL

Chapter 6

The two pack horses Mingo was leading were frisky in the bracing morning air. Even being loaded down with corn, peas, carrots, beans, squash, apples, blackberries, and roasted sunflower and pumpkin seeds, they whinnied at each other playfully.

Songbird walked beside him, leading her own pony. She would ride if she got tired, but right now she enjoyed the walk. They planned to stop at Chota first, then on to Boonesborough. Running Deer would catch up with them on the trail. He would bring the other two horses and was not far behind them.

"You have never been to Boonesborough?" Mingo asked her. She pulled her deerskin shawl around her shoulders.

"The only time I have ever been away from our village was the summer my mother became very ill, so ill our medicine man could not help her." Mingo listened with concern. "My father knew of a white doctor in Salem. His name was Dr. Parker. They met one spring when the doctor asked my father's permission to fish on our land. Father liked him and they became friends. When my father feared for my mother's life, he took her to Salem to the doctor. I stayed with the Parkers that entire summer until she was better. Dr. Parker and his wife were very good to us."

The tell-tale simper on her face warned Mingo of what was coming.

"And _that_ is where I learned to speak white man's English almost as well as my Oxford-educated Cherokee warrior."

His eyes narrowed and his nose wrinkled in playful disgust.

"You know I am almost afraid to introduce you to Daniel, " he said. Their steps were in perfect unison as they walked down the trail.

"Oh yes," her eyes sparkled as any emerald stone would. "Daniel, the_ tall _one."

Mingo pursed his lips.

"Yes, the_ tall _one," he remarked.

"Why do you fear our meeting?"

"Because. The two of you are so much alike. You have the same mischievous grin on your faces and glint in your green eyes. I fear that on your meeting it will be your combined lot in life to get my goat as often as the opportunity presents itself."

"Get your goat?" she puzzled.

"Yes, to get my goat, to tease me," he answered.

"To tease you?" she asked innocently.

Mingo tried to think of another way to explain it to her.

"Yes, to pester me with your…." then he saw the grin on her face again.

He stopped, his horses stopped, then she stopped.

"There, you see. You are exactly like him, your green cat eyes and devilish smiles. The two of you delight in testing my good nature and you have not even made each other's acquaintance yet."

The horses took advantage of the small stream that they had come to and began to drink. Mingo still chattered as he tethered them for a short rest. Songbird bent down and splashed some of the cool water on her face while listening to him intently.

"The two of you are like those mythical forest creatures in literature that sprinkle the morning dew on the flowers and plants." Mingo bent down, cupped his hands and took a drink. The rays of the sun peeked through the trees as he splashed his face and neck with the water.

"See there," he pointed to the path of the sunbeam. "See those sparkling dust particles dancing in the sunlight? That is what you and _tall_ Daniel do. You are the tiny sprite to his giant imp. One never knows what to expect next."

The Cherokee stood, and leaned up against a white birch tree. The horses were happily eating the green grass along the banks of the stream. Mingo suddenly realized how long and how much he had been talking. With the hint of a sheepish grin on his face he looked at Songbird.

Her eyes were laughing at him.

* * *

Songbird let her handsome Cherokee sputter. He so often was quiet and composed. She welcomed a glimmer of emotion on his face and in his voice.

But he was right, she did delight in "getting his goat."

He continued. "Yes, I do fear for my sanity when I introduce you to Daniel. The two of you do so many things alike."

The deerskin shawl slipped off Songbird's shoulders as she walked up to him. There was nowhere for him to go as the tree behind him prevented any escape.

She put her hands around the back of his neck and touched her nose to his.

"Does Daniel ever do this?" she smiled.

She felt him shiver as he wiggled nervously.

"No, Daniel and I have not had the occasion to touch noses," he answered.

Songbird stood on tiptoes, and let her hands go down inside the back of his collar. She reached up and kissed his forehead.

"And does Daniel ever do this?" she asked again.

The Cherokee swallowed and his rich, deep voice quavered.

"No, he does not."

The beautiful Choctaw maiden stood back down off her tiptoes. She put her arms around him and softly kissed him, a long, lingering kiss.

"And does Daniel ever do that?"

His dark eyes looked into hers.

"No," he hesitated, then with a straight face added,

"But he does have a very fine handshake."

Now it was his turn to tease.

Songbird jumped back and began to pound her fists on his chest.

"You, you, you," she exclaimed.

The dimples on his face exploded with his laughter, that echoed through the forest.

"Me, me, me," Mingo agreed, laughing, then gazed into her eyes. "I love you, Songbird."

Songbird smiled. It was the first time he had actually said it to her.

"I love you too," she answered and fell into his arms.

Then the horses' nickering warned them of someone approaching. Mingo's rifle still leaned on a tree next to the horses. He reached for his knife.

"What is this?" a voice behind them spoke.

Running Deer had caught up with them. Songbird, in her exhilaration, ran to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Sister?" he exclaimed and looked at Mingo for an explanation. The Cherokee innocently shrugged his shoulders as he passed by him on his way to the horses.

The three of them set out for Chota, where they would meet Mingo's Cherokee family, and then on to Boonesborough----and Daniel----the_ tall _one.

* * *

Menewa's words still remained in his head as Mingo fixed the wood for their campfire. The leader of the Cherokee at Chota took his nephew into his lodge. Face to face, with his hands on Mingo's shoulders, the elder Cherokee spoke like a father not an uncle.

"I am pleased, Mingo, and my sister, your mother, would be pleased also. Songbird is a good woman and from an honored tribe and family. If you choose to ask her to be your wife, I will ask the Great Spirit to watch over the paths you walk together. And know that Talota is with you always."

Songbird, Running Deer, and Mingo left Chota the morning after his talk with Menewa. The Cherokee were pleased with the gifts from Standing Bear and his people.

The three travelers walked all day on the way to Boonesborough and now decided to stop for the night. It was near sunset, Running Deer volunteered to hunt for some fresh meat, but only if Mingo promised _he_ would make the corn cakes for their meal. The two men agreed Songbird's cakes left a little to be desired and laughingly told her so.

Mingo sparked the flint to get the fire started as Songbird watched. His corn cakes would soon follow.

"Are you looking forward to visiting Boonesborough?" he asked her.

"Yes, I am," she answered.

"You do not sound so sure. Is something wrong?" Mingo rubbed his hands together over the low flames.

She sat on the blanket he had spread out on a rock for her.

"You have many friends in the white man's world?" she asked timidly.

"Friends," he said. "I know many in the white man's world. But only a very few that I would call _friends_. Trusted friends, like Daniel and Rebecca, and their children, Jemima and Israel, and Cincinnatus." He played nervously with the kindling.

"The others are like the wind," he added.

She puzzled at him.

"Like the wind that changes its path whenever it pleases," he explained.

He could see Songbird still did not understand. .

"Their 'friendship' depends on whether they need an Indian to blame something on, on that particular day."

It was silent between them.

"Does it bother you that I am half white?"

She put out her hand to him.

"You are brave, and strong, and loving. Is it your Cherokee blood or your white blood that makes you so? How is one to know? No, it does not bother me that you are half white," Songbird told him.

Mingo squeezed her hand in his.

"Well, where is Running Deer with our supper?" he said and bent over the fire. He placed a flat rock close enough to cook his cakes on.

Songbird noticed a tear in the back of his shirt and put her finger on it.

"I could stitch this tear in your shirt for you while we watch for him. If you let it go, it will only grow larger." Not taking no for an answer, she reached inside her pack, brought out her mending utensils and waited.

Mingo stood up, removed his weapon belt and pulled his shirt over his head, handing it to her. The modesty he felt at first with her was lessening more and more each day. It did not bother him now that he wore no shirt in front of her.

When Mingo bent back down to the fire, Songbird saw the tell-tale scars of a whipping on his back. She could not keep herself from touching them.

He flinched and turned to see tears in her eyes.

"One of those days when the white man was not so friendly to your Cherokee," he said quietly. He reached over to dry the tears that were running down her cheeks. "It is fine," he assured her.

Songbird quietly mended his shirt and handed it back to him. He stood and put it back on.

"Good as new," He slapped his stomach. "Thank you."

She stood up, facing him.

"Does it hurt, what they did to you?"

Mingo took her chin is his hand. "It was a very long time ago and not something I think about often. And neither should you. It is over and done with," he answered.

But he knew Songbird was not convinced. She put her arms around him and let her hands go up under his shirt. "These are not the scars of long ago." She looked into his eyes for answers. "These are the scars of not even two harvests ago. Now I know the Cherokee warrior whose wounds my mother nursed. Tortured by a white man who tied him to a tree, whipped him, then left him to die alone in the woods like a wounded animal."

She was right. He had no words for her. It _was_ Wildflower, her mother, who had attended to the cuts on his back after Silas Morgan tied him to a tree and beat him.

"And Daniel is the friend who did not believe you when you were accused of murdering this man and his family? He came to our village and took you back to the white settlement where a mob almost hanged you? My mother told me of this, but did not say who you were." Her voice began to break.

Her body trembled, as he held her.

"Daniel took me back to Boonesborough so he could take me to Salem where I would get a trial. The mob, who was led by the murdered man's brother, thought something else. It was Daniel who found the real killer and saved my life."

Mingo could see she was still not convinced.

"You must understand Daniel and how much he respects the law. And how much he wants justice out here so our wilderness of Ken-tah-teh will begin to be civilized. There is no one I know who wants peace between the white man and the Indian more than Daniel Boone."

"But you almost died," she murmured and put her fingers on his neck where the rope had been. Mingo took her hands and held them close to his chest.

"But I did not. Daniel made certain of that. We have walked many trails, side by side, he and I, saved each others lives, doctored each others wounds. I trust my life to him, as he does his to me."

The beginning of a smile appeared on her face.

"He is the_ tall _one?" she grinned, giving in to his logic.

"Yes," Mingo answered. "Daniel is very tall, in more ways that just his stature."

Songbird squeezed him tight.

"Now will you tell me the secret to your corn cakes?"

Mingo laughed as Running Deer walked into camp holding two fat rabbits ready to be roasted.

"No," grinning back at her.


	7. Chapter 7

FALL

Chapter 7

The sun shone brightly overhead on the warm October day. The walls of Boonesborough cast a giant shadow as a figure walked in the direction of Daniel Boone's cabin.

"What in Kentucky Blue Thunder are you doing down there, Daniel?" Cincinnatus Jones yelped as a shovel-full of dirt hit him in the face. The tavern keeper approached one of the three community root cellars the settlers had voted to dig. With the shortage of crops, the residents of Boonesborough all agreed to give a percentage of their yield to a collective supply to be used only in an emergency.

Cincinnatus sputtered as he brushed dirt out of his eyes and white beard.

"Did I hear someone mention Blue Thunder?" a voice shouted from inside the nearly completed storage cellar.

"Daniel?" Cincinnatus queried.

It wasn't the tall frontiersman that stepped out into the sunlight. It was Tupper, another resident of Boonesborough, a good man, but one generally known for his aversion to physical labor.

"Tupper! What in the name of the Good Book are you doing down there? And another thing, watch where yur throwin' that dirt!"

"Well, watch where you're walkin'" Tupper retorted.

Tupper did a little bit of everything to earn his keep in Boonesborough. He was a handyman, trapper, fisherman, and hunter, but what he really liked to do was dole out advice in the tavern while imbibing in one of Cincinnatus' potent potables. Hot rum in the winter, cold ale in the summer, it made no difference to Tupper.

"Well by cracky, you are the last person I ever thought I'd see with a shovel in his hand coming out of a root cellar," Cincinnatus stated.

Tupper started to say something, but was interrupted by the older man.

"And by the way, where _is_ Dan'l?"

"I'm right here, Cincinnatus." the big man in buckskins spoke up behind him.

Cincinnatus swirled around. "Dan'l, I thought you had more sense n' lettin' Tupper here dig our root cellars. Why varmints will be in there so fast there won't be a morsel left. Either that or….." He didn't get a chance to finish.

"Now just a doggone minute!" Tupper defended himself. "I'll have you know I dug plenty of root cellars back when I lived in Pennsylvany and up there we have _real_ winters. Not just these little snowy-flake flurries you Kentuckians call a snow storm!"

"Now hold on there, you two!" the big man said. He dropped the baskets he had fetched from his cabin.

"Cincinnatus, Tupper's right. He's built a lot of these contraptions and good ones too from what I've heard so don't go givin' him a hard time. This is the third root cellar he's helped dig for us."

The grizzled tavern keeper brushed the last of the dirt off his trousers.

"Well I never woulda believed it if I didn't hear it from you, Dan'l," he said. "I didn't know you had it in ya, Tupper. So that's why I ain't seen you in the tavern lately. Well you know what I'm gonna do. That bar tab you owe me, I'm gonna wipe the slate clean and call us even. How 'bout that?"

Daniel and Tupper looked at each other, their eyes opened wide as the sky.

"Dan'l," Tupper said. "The heat's got to Cincinnatus, you better git him some cold water right away," the burly man who had been working on the root cellars all day smiled.

"All right, fine and dandy!" the older man huffed. "Forgit it then!"

Tupper jumped out of the hole he was digging.

"No, no, no siree, Cincinnatus! That's right neighborly of you." He grabbed the older man's hand and nearly shook it off his arm.

"And tonight I'll be in the tavern to start me up a brand spankin' new tab,"Tupper reminded him.

Cincinnatus shook his head. "What was I a thinkin' 'bout, Dan'l?"

The big man caught the wink the tavern keeper gave him.

Daniel slapped his grey-haired friend on the back. "Well that is right neighborly of you, Cincinnatus and Tupper here deserves it. He's worked awful hard on these root cellars for the last few weeks."

"Yes sir, and this is the last of em," Tupper said.

Daniel handed Tupper the baskets to carry the excess dirt from inside the root cellar.

"I thought Mingo was gonna be back before this to help, Dan'l?" Cincinnatus asked. "He's been gone an awful long time, longer than he said he would be."

"Why Cincinnatus, I do believe you're worried 'bout ol' Mingo," Daniel teased. "We ain't heard anything 'bout any up-river rebellions or down-river commotions to speak of. I reckon Mingo just found him a good hibernatin' spot for a few days. You know how he likes to fish."

"A few days, more like weeks." Cincinnatus took out his hankerchief and wiped his brow. "Ain't like Mingo, though to shirk his responsibilities like that."

Daniel looked at his friend. "Well now just who do you think Mingo's responsibilities are with, the people of Boonesborough or the Cherokee?"

The tavern keeper was tongue-tied. "Now you know what I mean, Dan'l. When Mingo says he's gonna do somethin' he's most always a man of his word."

"You're right about that, Cincinnatus," Daniel agreed. "Why are you so all-fired worried about Mingo anyway?"

Cincinnatus looked up to the trees. "Oh it's probably nothin' but before he left he had a little tussle with a couple of trappers in the tavern. They wasn't about to let me close up and Mingo helped em see the error of their ways."

He thought for a minute and could see both Tupper and Daniel were listening.

"Well he all but thrown em out on their ears for me is what he did. I just hope they didn't go a holdin' a grudge aginst him and went after him."

"You mean Tolliver and Swede?" Tupper asked. "I heard bout the 'tussle' No they didn't go after Mingo. I saw them in the settlement a day or so after he left. Said they had some more trap lines to look into and headed in the opposite direction Mingo went."

Daniel stood staring up the road that led into Boonesborough.

"I dunno then," Cincinnatus said. "Just not like that Cherokee at all, not at all."

Daniel's crooked smile appeared.

"Well Cincinnatus if you're so all-fired worried 'bout Mingo, why don't you ask him. 'Cuz if I ain't mistaken that's him comin' down the road and he ain't alone."

The three Boonesborough men stood side by side watching as Mingo, Songbird, and Running Deer approached. Mingo waved and smiled as he got closer.

"Well would ya looky at that?" Cincinnatus marveled.

"Hello Daniel, Tupper, Cincinnatus," Mingo shouted. "Whoa," he said quietly to the horses and handed the reins to Running Deer and Songbird who let the old friends say their hellos.

"Howdy, stranger," Daniel remarked and offered his blood brother a hearty hand shake. "It's been awhile. Ol' Cincinnatus bout worried hisself to death. Thought you was lost."

Mingo returned the gesture. "I must apologize, Daniel," the Cherokee explained. "I know I said I would be back to help with the work, but I was ummm unavoidably detained." He looked around the big man toward the finished root cellar. "But it looks as though the task has been well undertaken."

Neither Tupper or Cincinnatus uttered a word. They were looking at Mingo's two fellow travelers. Finally Daniel spoke, "Well, Mingo, you start the introductions and I'll finish with these two stone-faced critters behind me."

"I am sorry, Daniel," the Cherokee replied. He put his hand on the Choctaw man's shoulder, "This is Running Deer, son of Chief Standing Bear."

The Choctaw man offered his hand to Daniel. "It is an honor to finally meet Daniel Boone. My father speaks highly of you."

"It is my honor as well to meet the son of Chief Standing Bear," Daniel said as he shook the warrior's hand.

Mingo reached back for Songbird who had taken a step back while the men exchanged greetings. As she moved toward the big frontiersman, Mingo put his hand softly on her back to reassure her. No one else could see the gesture.

"And this is Songbird, daughter of Chief Standing Bear." Mingo said. She smiled as she looked up at the big man. "Songbird, I am pleased to introduce you to Daniel Boone," Mingo cleared his throat, then grinned. "…_the tall one_."

"The tall one?" Daniel looked at Mingo in surprise.

As Songbird offered a hand to Daniel, her elbow nonchalantly jabbed the Cherokee in the ribs. That gesture did not go unnoticed by the three Boonesborough residents.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Songbird," Daniel said. Her hand was half as big as his.

"She has decided to refer to you as 'the tall one,' Daniel," Mingo chided.

This time the elbow was not so gentle.

"Ow!" the Cherokee yelped and grabbed his ribs.

Daniel beamed and let his tall frame tower to the sky. He liked his new name, as well as this charming young woman who had obviously done something to spark a side of Mingo he didn't see often enough.

"Why that's right nice of you to say, Songbird. I keep tryin' to tell Mingo here that I am taller than he is. Now he'll _have _to believe me." Daniel winked at her.

The Cherokee rolled his eyes, "You see, what did I tell you? You and he are just alike," he whispered to her.

Songbird stepped in front of Mingo to face Daniel.

"On behalf of my mother and father, the Choctaw would like to share with the people of Boonesborough some of this year's harvest."

Daniel looked at the two horses loaded down with corn, squash, beans, nuts and dried fruits, all things that would be valuable if the winter was as hard on them as the summer had been. "Well I speak for the people of Boonesborough when I say thank you. The Choctaw are generous as well as honorable." He shook both hers and Running Deer's hands again.

"Ahem, ahem!" the two voices behind the big man spoke up.

"Well, where are my manners? I'm not the only resident of Boonesborough here," Daniel said. "Songbird, Running Deer, may I present two of Boonesborough's finest citizens. This here is Cincinnatus Cicero Jones, better known as Cincinnatus. He runs the tavern, boarding house, and general store all in one and does a bit of doctorin' too."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," The older man said and tipped his three-cornered hat to her at the same time looking at Mingo.. "And you too, Running Deer, welcome." and offered his hand to the Choctaw man.

"And this is Tupper," Daniel continued. The burly man did the same as Cincinnatus. "Ma'am," he said, tipped his hat to her and shook Running Deer's hand.

Mingo spoke up. "It was Cincinnatus who supplied me with the tobacco I gave to your father."

Running Deer laughed, "My father thanks you, my mother does not. She made him smoke it outside of their lodge." All their laughter was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream coming from the Boone's cabin, followed by a racing Israel Boone.

"Mingo!!" he shouted and leapt into the waiting Cherokee's arms. "Did 'ja hear, did 'ja hear?"

"Did I hear what, Israel?" Mingo asked as he patted the youth on the backside and put him down on the ground.

"Ain't gonna have no vegetables this winter, ain't that good news?" the boy was more excited than on the last day of school.

Mingo took him by the shoulders and turned him toward the pack horses loaded down with the wretched "greens" Israel Boone despised. Israel put all vegetables in the category of greens.

"A gift, Israel, from the Choctaw," Mingo patted the young boy's shoulders. "And this is Songbird and Running Deer, the daughter and son of Chief Standing Bear."

The disappointed youngster looked at the horses, then turned to the visitors. "Pleased to meet you, Songbird and Running Deer," he said politely.

"So Israel," Mingo said as he bent down on one knee to look the boy in the eye. "You will have _plenty_ of vegetables this winter."

All of the adults were trying not to laugh at the young boy's plight. His father stepped in. "And what else do you tell our new friends, Israel?" Daniel prodded him.

"Thank you," came the rather insincere reply.

"Good boy," the proud father said. "You'll have to excuse Is'rul. Vegetables ain't one of his favorites."

The younger Boone's eyes fell to the ground as he dragged his feet. "But criminently, Mingo, why couldn't you brought horses filled with rock candy and peppermint sticks?"

On a dead run Israel kicked up dust as he ran to the cabin so as not to hear what his Pa had to say to that..

Laughter broke out on all the faces of the grown-ups as they watched his escape.

"Well, by golly," Tupper said, as he stretched. "If you like, Dan'l, I'll take these here supplies and store them in the two root cellars that're done." He knew the close friends had much to talk about. And Songbird and Running Deer hadn't met Rebecca or Jemima yet. "I'll get Isaac to help me," the burly fellow added.

"Thank you, Tupper," Daniel said. The big man stepped back to let him take the reins from Mingo.

"Yes, thank you, Tupper. I owe you an ale and Isaac too," the Cherokee told him.

The horses plodded slowly behind Tupper who shouted as he walked. "We'll hold you to that, Mingo!"

Cincinnatus nervously kicked the dirt around at his feet. "Well you folks best go meet Becky and Jemima, the prettier Boones. I got to get back to the store before Isaac eats and drinks me out of house and home." The older man wasn't about to let it be known how he'd much rather stay and visit.

Daniel stepped up behind him. "Cincinnatus, why don't you come back and join us for supper later. Becky always has plenty when there's company."

"Awww now Dan'l," Cincinnatus hemmed and hawed.

"Cincinnatus," Mingo added. " I told Songbird you were the only man I knew who could make a bread pudding better than any I have had from here to London." The Cherokee leaned in close, "Do not make a liar out of me," he whispered. Both Daniel and Mingo knew what family meant to the older man. An invite to supper with the Boones was worth more than any amount of silver in his purse. "Perhaps you could make one for this special occasion."

A wrinkled smile appeared on the tavern keeper's face, "Jes so happens, Mingo, got me some fresh eggs this morning, ought to be jes right for some of my puddin'."

"Outstanding," Mingo remarked, then in a low murmur that only he and Cincinnatus could hear. "Perhaps though, you should go a little light on the rum, Cincinnatus. I am not so certain Songbird or Running Deer for that matter can handle their liquor as well as I."

Cincinnatus rolled his eyes at Daniel and winked. "Oh yes, Mingo, we all know just how much ale it takes before you start the chorus." He whispered back at the Cherokee, "I'll only add a dash for some flavorin' and Dan'l, I thank you kindly for the invite." Cincinnatus tipped his hat one more time at Songbird, his smile, warm and welcoming. "And I'll see you folks later." His whistling could be heard all the way back to the settlement.

"What do you suppose he meant by that, Daniel?" Mingo queried. "I can handle my ale with the best of you palefaces." It was a joke between them. The Cherokee tended to sing loud and strong when he took in a bit more of the barley than he should. It did not happen often, but when it did it was a measurably marked occasion.

"And well I know it, Mingo," the big man agreed, then saw his escape when Mrs. Daniel Boone approached.

His beautiful Irish redhead wore a green dress that favored her blue eyes and shapely figure. The apron always tied around her small waist was spotless. "Mingo, welcome home," Rebecca hugged him. "We missed you. I see you brought friends," She offered her hand to the pretty Choctaw woman and her brother . "You must be Songbird, and you must be Running Deer, I am Rebecca Boone. Welcome to Boonesborough."

"It is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Boone," Songbird said quietly. "Mingo has told us so much about you."

"Really?" Rebecca's eyes flashed over to the shrinking Cherokee.

"Oh all good, Rebecca, I assure you," Mingo pledged.

Daniel took over, "I see Is'rul must have reported our visitor's names back to the General," nodding toward his Mrs. "And here are the rest of the troops. This is Jemima, our daughter."

Jemima was a pretty young lady, almost sixteen, with brown hair to her shoulders that she brushed fervently day and night. She had her mother's spirit and her father's charm. Mima, as they called her also wore an apron.

"It is very nice to meet both of you," the young lady said. Then she ran to Mingo and gave him a hug like her mother. "We missed you, Mingo," she spoke freely. "Where have you been?"

"Mima!" her mother exclaimed. "You'll have to excuse her, Songbird. Mingo's one of the family. When he doesn't come around….well we just naturally worry."

Mingo held onto Jemima's hand. "I do apologize, Jemima, but I was helping the Choctaw with the bounty of vegetables and fruits they are sharing with us."

"Oh yeah," Jemima giggled. "Israel already told us about that. "

"It ain't funny, Mima!" Israel moaned from behind the big sycamore in the Boone's yard. Everyone's attention turned quickly to him. He had managed to sneak up and hide behind the giant tree without anyone seeing.

Daniel clapped his hands and rubbed them together."Well Rebecca Boone, you got a lot of cookin' to do cuz I invited Cincinnatus back for supper with these fine folks. But you don't have to worry about dessert. Mingo persuaded him to make one of his bread puddins'."

The redhead took her normal stance, arms akimbo. "I'll just bet Mingo persuaded Cincinnatus to make one of those bread puddings, and you went right along with him didn't you, Daniel Boone? Laced with so much rum you can smell it from here to Salem!"

"Now Becky," The big man tried to get between his wife and their guests.

"Don't '_Now Becky' _me," The redhead peeked around her husband at Songbird, Running Deer and Mingo. All three were enjoying the big man's dilemma. The lady of the house continued, "And besides Jemima and I have already started planning something special for supper, haven't we Mima?"

Jemima nodded yes.

"Oh Daniel, I have seen you fight your way out of many difficult situations, but none as difficult as this one," Mingo said.

Daniel turned to agree with his friend and turned back to see a big smile on his wife's face.

"You were funnin' with me weren't you woman?" Daniel asked.

Becky nodded in victory.

"Fine, you win," Daniel added and gave her a kiss to seal his declaration.

"Thank you," Becky answered. "And I guess the bread pudding will be all right since we do have special guests. We will just have to fix something else that the children can eat for dessert."

"Awww, Ma," Jemima moaned.

"Now don't you start with me, young lady."

Daniel stepped in. "Songbird, Running Deer, how would you like to see Boonesborough? Mingo and I will take you on a little tour."

Out from behind the sycamore tree a trail of dust led to Daniel's feet, "Me too, Pa? Me too?" Israel begged his father.

"Why Is'rul, I wouldn't think of showin' off Boonesborough without you, son."

The littlest Boone looked at Mingo and got a nod of agreement from the Cherokee.

"If it is all right with you, Mrs. Boone and Jemima, I would much prefer to help you with the meal if I could?" Songbird asked the two other women. "And let the men show my brother your settlement." She smiled at Israel whose toothy grin showed how much he liked being included as one of the men.

Becky took Songbird by the arm, "Why we could use all the help we can get, Songbird. Come and we'll show you our kitchen."

As the Choctaw maiden started toward the Boone cabin she looked at Mingo. The warm smile on his face told her of his feelings. She knew he had wanted her to meet Rebecca and spend some time with her.

"Just do not let her make any of her corn cakes, Rebecca!" Mingo shouted.

Running Deer laughed along with the Cherokee.

As the women walked to the cabin, they heard Rebecca's voice say, "And Songbird, it's Becky please, not Mrs. Boone."

It was an hour past midday.

"Well where should we start?" Daniel looked at Mingo.

"Cincinnatus' store!" Israel shouted.

"Now Is'rul, the only reason you want to go to that store is to see if he got any more rock candy in from Salem," his father remarked.

"Daniel, why don't we show Running Deer the root cellars. Perhaps he can give us some suggestions. The Choctaw have built some at their camp as well."

"I would be interested in seeing your root cellars," Running Deer added. "Maybe I will get some suggestions from yours."

"All right, then," Daniel said, "The root cellars it is." The big man swung Israel up on his shoulders, "And I promise we'll get to the store before we head home to supper."

"Yahoo!" the youngster yelled from his seat at the top of the world.


	8. Chapter 8

FALL

Chapter 8

The Boone cabin was transformed into a holiday mood. When the two Boone women saw they were having special guests, Sunday supper entered their minds even though it was only Wednesday. Becky had a turkey ready for roasting and Jemima was taking care of the squash, green beans and pumpkin pie.

"Please, Mrs. Boone, I mean Rebecca, let me help you?" Songbird asked.

Becky handed the Choctaw woman an apron, "How would you like to peel some potatoes? The men we cook for love their potatoes. And that includes Mingo, right Mima?"

Rebecca could see the warmth in Songbird's young Indian face at the mention of Mingo's name. That warmed Rebecca inside too.

Jemima was looking out the window, "Pardon, Ma…oh yes Mingo loves potatoes. If you don't mind, Ma, I am going to finish cooking the squash and pumpkin on the outdoor fire. I'll keep an eye on the turkey too." She hurried out the front door.

"That girl," Becky said. " About this time everyday a certain young man named Jackson Brady goes by on his way to check his rabbit snares and Mima knows it."

"It is the same in our village with the young women," Songbird nodded.

Rebecca could not help herself; her hands were covered in flour as she kneaded what would become two loaves of white bread, but she asked anyway,

"So what did Mingo mean not to let you cook any corn cakes?"

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed quickly. The peeled potatoes began to fill the kettle of water hanging over the fireplace.

"Running Deer says my corn cakes are not as good as Mingo's," and he is right, they are not," Songbird admitted.

"Hmmph!" The flour filled the air as Mrs. Boone put the bread dough in the pans. "Those men. Do you know why Mingo's corn cakes are so good? Because that Cherokee has a ferocious sweet tooth, that's why." She could see Songbird was not familiar with the terminology. "He loves sweet things made with honey or molasses or maple syrup. I don't know how he keeps that lean, muscular frame of his."

Becky saw the blush in Songbird's face.

"You just watch him next time, Songbird. When he is making those corn cakes, he'll reach into his pack and sprinkle them with a little sugar. I know for a fact he keeps a tiny pouch of sugar in there."

"I will watch him next time," Songbird promised.

* * *

The potatoes were cooking, the bread was rising, and they could hear Jemima giggling outside with her young visitor. He just happened to stop for a drink from their well.

Rebecca prepared herself and Songbird a cup of tea and sat down beside her. "You know, Songbird, Mingo loves my molasses cookies too."

"As much as your Irish stew?" Songbird asked.

A compliment's warm glow showed in Rebecca's Boone's smile. "Oh, Mingo does love my Irish stew doesn't he?" She thought for a moment. It was a good time for Songbird to know more about him. "Mingo has a small lodge down by Birch Tree River about two or three miles from here. When he is not at Chota, he stays there. When Dan is gone Mingo camps in the woods just beyond our cabin." Becky took a drink of her tea. "I have told him many times he is welcome to sleep in our spare bed because I know Dan has asked him to keep an eye on us, but Mingo will not have it."

_"It would not be proper, Rebecca," _the red head said in her best Mingo voice. She and Songbird both giggled. "I practically have to order him to sleep on the porch if it is raining." Rebecca shook her head thinking about it. "So when Dan is gone, I always make a big kettle of my Irish stew, Mingo style."

"Mingo style?" Songbird asked.

The red head nodded. "Mingo style, with venison, potatoes, green beans, onions and lots and lots of carrots." She shook her finger at the pretty young girl next to her, "But no peas! Mingo hates peas!"

The two of them laughed like they were sisters.

"Now Dan, on the other hand, likes peas, but no carrots!"

"They keep you very busy don't they, Rebecca?" Songbird said.

"They do at that," Becky agreed. "But I wouldn't have it any other way. Dan is a good protector and a good husband. When he is not around, Mingo takes his place as that protector."

She put her hand on Songbird's, "Mingo is such a good man, a good friend, a good teacher and influence on my children. We love him very much, he is an important member of our family and so will you be when he marries you."

Songbird's eyes opened wide. The word marriage had not come up in their conversation. Mrs. Daniel Boone smiled, "Songbird, I can see it in your eyes and in your smile. You light up at the mention of his name."

Again the young maiden's face began to redden. . "You are very wise, Rebecca."

"No," Rebecca sighed. "I am just a woman who felt like you not so very long ago with Dan." She patted Songbird's hand, "And Mingo is a very lucky man to have you."

Neither of them spoke for a moment, both thinking of their men.

Rebecca finally spoke up, "Well that bread smells good and I'd better check on the turkey too. Let's see my molasses cookies and my Irish stew, I will have to write the recipes down for you." Becky's hand went to her mouth in embarrassment.

Songbird smiled at her. "It is all right, Rebecca. I can read and write. I would enjoy having your recipes for him."

"I am so sorry, Songbird to think that you could not read. I should have known; your English is so good. I will write them up for you. I swear Mingo can be in Chota and smell my cookies baking and be at our doorstep in minutes."

She poured them each another cup of tea. "Mingo's life has not been an easy one. He is of two worlds; the white man's and the Cherokee. He lost his Cherokee mother while very young and his English father tried to make him into something he was not."

"The moment Dan and Mingo met they were like brothers," Rebecca continued. "Both of them love Kentucky. They love the land and long for peace between the whites and the Indians. I said it before, Mingo is an important member of our family, and who or what makes him happy makes us happy." Her green eyes sparkled, "And, you, Songbird make Mingo happy. He glows in your presence in a way I've never seen before."

"Thank you, Rebecca," Songbird answered. "He told me I would like you and he was right."

Tears of happiness streamed down both women's faces, when a hearty voice bellowed from outside. "Well women folk, the men folk have come home and are ready for supper," Daniel shouted. Both of them scurried to wipe the tears with their aprons.

Daniel walked over to his wife and kissed her on the cheek. "Been peelin' them onions again, Becky?" Married as long as they had been, Rebecca knew her husband recognized happy tears. Her hug let him know so. She nodded yes. "Songbird too?" Rebecca nodded again. "Good," the big man answered.

* * *

It was a feast of friendship and celebration. New friends and a celebration that Becky would reveal to her husband later. Even though they were trying to conserve their foodstuffs, this meal was a special one. Nothing was left of the turkey but the carcass for soup. Cincinnatus' bread pudding was close to being gone too. Israel eyed the last corner. "Can I Ma, please?" begging for a taste of the lightly rum-laced dessert. Rebecca looked to his father who nodded yes.

"Just a corner, just a taste, Israel Boone," she told him. The boy took a bite and smacked his lips. "Just like his father," Becky said.

Rebecca looked at the group of people at her table, Cherokee, White, Choctaw, young, old, men, women. It warmed her almost as much as the coffee she was serving to them.

"Rebecca, you have done it again," Mingo expressed his opinion while rubbing his belly. "I could not eat even one more thing."

Songbird sat at his side. "Not even a molasses cookie?" the Choctaw maiden asked.

His eyes opened wide, "Now just what have you women been talking about while we were gone?"

Rebecca winked at him, "Just you never mind, Sir."

Songbird took a page of writing paper from her pocket. "Rebecca has given me her recipe for Irish stew _and _for her molasses cookies."

Mingo looked at the other men at the table. "I think they are up to something." he said.

Daniel's crooked smile broke onto his face, "You could be right, Mingo."

* * *

Like the good housekeeper she was brought up to be, Jemima helped her mother and Songbird clear the dishes. Cincinnatus had already thanked the Boones for such a good supper and said his goodbyes. He had to get back to the tavern. Daniel was stoking up the fireplace and Israel had cornered Running Deer into showing him the Choctaw way to shoot a bow.

The evening twilight called to Mingo. He stood on the front porch of the Boone cabin like he had so many times before. How clear the Kentucky sky was, and full of stars, something he longed for many nights while growing up in the streets of London, England. The fresh cool autumn air filled his lungs as he breathed deep.

"You longed for the open air and night sky too, Mingo?" Songbird came up behind him and put her arm around his waist.

He put his arm around her, "Four walls begin to close in on me if I am inside too long." he said. "And you? Are you tired, little one? It has been a long day."

She leaned into him. "I like this white man's family of yours, Mingo," she told him. "And they love you very much."

The Cherokee said nothing, just watched the stars, then squeezed her tight to him. "They are a good family to be a part of…..even the tall one," he smiled at her.

That was his way of saying he loved them too.

Songbird reached up and touched his cheek. "In my eyes, you _know_ you are as tall as Daniel. I just like to tease."

"Sh," he put his finger to her lips. "Do not tell anyone, but I like it when you tease."

Their kiss under the stars warmed them both.

* * *

From inside the cabin Daniel couldn't help but see the kiss through the open door.

"Daniel Boone, what on earth are you doing?" a raspy whisper came from his wife.

"She's nice, ain't she Becky?" Daniel returned the whisper.

The redhead leaned on her tall man, "She's the one, Dan." She motioned for him to follow her over to the fireplace where they could talk.

"What do you mean, she's the one?"

Her red locks shook in disgust. "I mean she's the one!" Rebecca repeated, but could see her husband didn't understand. Men! she thought "Dan why do you suppose Mingo brought her here to meet all of us. Next to his people in Chota we are his family."

Daniel's eyes lit up as he sat down in his big chair by the fire. He grabbed Becky around the waist and sat her on his lap. "You think so?"

Her eyes twinkled, "I know so," she said.

Daniel slapped her gently on the behind. "Well it's about time! Let's go tell 'em we're gonna have a party."

"Dan!" Becky punched him. "We can't do that!"

"Why not, he's my best friend."

She looked him in the eye, "Because we have to wait for them to tell us, that's why."

"How come?" he shot back.

"Oh Daniel." The Irish in her came out.

Daniel pinched her side. "All right, all right, we'll wait."

Rebecca stood up and straightened her skirt. Exasperated she looked at him, "No you won't. The first time the two of you are alone you'll blurt something out." She took off her apron that had been on since first light then continued straightening her dress.

The tall man stood up, kissed the top of her head and grinned. "I'll try my best not to say anything," he assured her.

Rebecca smiled back at him. "I know better…you're worse than Israel when there is a secret to be kept. Speaking of Israel, where is he?" She took off to find her youngest.

* * *

The two star gazers still stood on the porch. "Rebecca told me you were welcome to stay with them tonight in the cabin. It is going to be a cool evening." Mingo said to Songbird.

She put her arm through his, "Would you mind," she hesitated. "I would like to see your lodge by the river. I know that is where you and Running Deer will stay tonight."

He smiled, "If that is what you wish. You can sleep in my lodge, and Running Deer and I will sleep outside. Inside is a big, thick blanket called a quilt that Rebecca made for me. It will keep you very warm. We will build a big fire outside. Then tomorrow I have a special place to show you before you say goodbye to the Boones and return home."

The pretty maiden laid her head against him. "You will not be coming back with us?"

His chin rested on her shiny black hair. "I will be back to see you many times before the snow flies, but first I promised Daniel I would help prepare the settlement for winter. We need to get all the meat and fish we can and prepare it for storage, salting, drying, it or making it into jerky."

"Oh," she murmured like a kitten searching for its mother.

It made Mingo laugh.

"I promise. I will help Daniel, then I will need to go to Chota to help them get prepared for the winter and then I will come to you."

Songbird teetered on the edge of the porch. His strong hands supporting her so she would not fall.

"Then you will spend the winter with us?"

"I will stay until almost the end of the white man's calendar year. It is something the Boone's call 'Keeping Christmas.'" It is a special time for them and after two years ago it is special for me to be with them." Mingo held onto her until she pressed in close to him.

"Very well," she said. "I will let the Boones have you for their one special day only."

"You will?" Mingo pretended surprise.

"Yes, I will allow it."

To him, her eyes looked as though they danced with the moonlight.

"Let us go say goodnight to the Boones and then I will show you Birch Tree River. And my lodge."


	9. Chapter 9

FALL

Chapter 9

The next morning Songbird was up before the two warriors. Their campfire was blazing, and coffee and corn cakes were cooking. She could see them both stirring under their blankets.

"The sun will be high overhead before these two mighty warriors open their eyes," she muttered loudly, rattling the coffee cups.

From under the blankets, "Do you smell something cooking, Mingo?" Running Deer asked. "Did you get up already and cook some of your corn cakes?"

Mingo's nose peeked out of his covers. "I do smell something, Running Deer. I thought perhaps it was you who started the morning meal. Who do you suppose it could be? Rebecca, I will wager Rebecca brought us some of her cornbread already this early morning."

"Ow!" Mingo and Running Deer shouted in unison. Someone had kicked them each in the foot. They threw off their blankets with grins as wide as the river running behind them.

Songbird stood over them, looking them both in the eye.

* * *

The two warriors were both tall and lean as they stood and stretched the sleep out of their bones.

"You two will sit. I have made you coffee and corn cakes for your morning meal." the little maiden told them.

Mingo and Running Deer traded looks of reservation.

"Oh Sister, I am still very full from the meal at the Boones last night."

"Yes, Songbird, I as well could not eat a morsel," Mingo glanced at Running Deer.

"You two will sit!" she repeated herself and handed them each a cup of coffee and a cake.

Running Deer and Mingo slowly lowered themselves to the ground. Their backsides touched the earth at the exact same moment, neither of them daring to spill a drop of coffee or a crumb of corn cake. They took a drink of the hot brew and looked up at the little Chief who stared down at them.

Songbird stood arms akimbo, tapping her moccasin and looking very much like Rebecca Boone.

They both took a bite of the cake, and then another and then another.

"Songbird, how is it that you? Where did you…these are wonderful," Mingo remarked.

"Yes, Sister I agree how ever did you…" Running Deer added.

She picked up Mingo's pack that was at her feet, opened it and held out the small pouch of sugar he kept hidden in it.

The Cherokee's brows furled and his dark eyes sparkled. "Rebecca, Rebecca Boone told you my secret. I have been found out."

A sheepish grin and wrinkled nose from looking up at her in the sunlight gave him away.

"You must never tell Daniel. He thinks I am a very skilled culinary person."

Running Deer looked over at him.

"A cook; Daniel thinks I am a good cook," Mingo explained.

Running Deer and Mingo peered up at her.

"They are very good, Sister."

"Yes, very good," the Cherokee agreed.

Songbird turned around, squeezed in between them on the ground and enjoyed her victory and her corn cakes.

* * *

It was going to be a good day to travel, warm enough for Songbird and Running Deer, cool enough for the horses. Cincinnatus had stabled the three horses for them. Running Deer told Mingo and Songbird he would meet them at the tavern in a couple of hours. Mingo had told him of a special place he wanted to take his sister.

Talota's Rock was located near Mingo's lodge. As he and Songbird walked there he told her, "It is a place where I go for quiet time. It overlooks Crystal Falls. My mother and I spent many afternoons together sitting on this giant rock. I feel closest to her here."

Holding Songbird tight, they stood on the rock together. Looking out over the valley below, the autumn colors leapt out at them.

"She would bring Tara Mingo and me here most everyday, to play," he told her. "She said the playing was good for our bodies. What she really meant was the water was good to bathe our bodies," he laughed.

Songbird laughed with him. "It is peaceful here," she said.

"Yes, it is," Mingo agreed.

As they stood in silent meditation a hawk circling overhead sang to them a song of the valley.

* * *

Already at mid-morning the tavern in Boonesborough was filled. It was the gathering center of the settlement. Womenfolk buying their goods for the home, children hoping for one more peppermint stick, men buying powder and shot, those who imbibe early in the day ordering an ale.

On the way back from Talota's Rock, Mingo told Songbird about Tara Mingo, his half-brother. How he was full of hate for the white man, for his mother marrying a white man, but most of all for his half-white brother, Cara Mingo.

"There was no brotherly love between the two of us," Mingo told her. "Only loathing on his part, and disappointment on mine. Tara Mingo was evil and ruthless. He lived only to be a great chief of the Creeks and he stole and murdered to make that happen."

Mingo stopped in the middle of the trail and looked at her. "I did not want to kill my brother, Songbird, but I did---not once, but two times."

Wonder showed in her eyes, he could see it.

"In a great battle between the Cherokee and the Creek, I shot Tara Mingo and I buried him. But he lived and came after me. He killed some of my people and shot a good friend, almost killing him."

Songbird took his hand in hers.

"I went after him a second time, but he and his Creek braves overpowered me. Tara Mingo beat me then tied me to a tree and whipped me," he swallowed hard. "Then he staked me to a rock and left me to die."

Songbird buried her head in his chest and held him.

"Daniel found me, nursed my wounds, then went after Tara Mingo. It took every ounce of strength I had left in me, but I followed them. Tara Mingo was going to kill Daniel and I shot him. I shot my own brother to save my blood brother."

He shook his head.

"What kind of man does that make me? What kind of man are you letting yourself care for?"

Songbird took his face in her hands, "A man who knows right from wrong, good from bad. A man who has had much sadness and loneliness in his life, who is searching for who he is."

She kissed him.

"Please let me help you find who you are. Please let me help you to be happy."

He smiled lovingly at her.

"Little one, you have already made me happier than I have ever been. It will be hard to say goodbye to you today,"

They held each other for a long time.

"It will not be goodbye," she said. "I understand you have responsibilities to Chota and to Boonesborough. Then you will come to me."

"I love you, Songbird. I have not said that to anyone in a very, very long time….and meant it. I will be with you just as soon as I am able."

She snuggled to him, "Your kiss will keep me warm until next we meet."

Their lips, their souls met in a kiss of passion that was meant to be, under the eyes of their Creator. The two of them said their long goodbye now, while they were alone.

* * *

The door to the tavern was wide open as Songbird and Mingo approached. Patrons inside were soaking up the unusual warmth of the mid-October day.

"Do you want to say goodbye to Cincinnatus?" Mingo asked her.

"Oh yes, very much." she answered.

Mingo entered first looking for the proprietor, who was at the bar pouring an ale. Songbird came in behind him. At the first table by the door sat Wade Tolliver and Swede Anderssen.

Mingo had no ill feelings toward them. "Gentlemen," he nodded.

The two trappers said nothing, just stared at him and at her.

Cincinnatus hurried to them, "Mingo, Songbird, where you been? Running Deer's been here and gone. Said he'd meet you at Dan'l's with the horses." The tavern keeper tried to get between them and the two men at the table.

Mingo saw what he was doing. "It's all right Cincinnatus, Songbird wanted to say goodbye before she left for home." Tupper waved to them from the back of the room. Songbird waved back.

"Why don't we go outside?" a nervous Cincinnatus said and pushed them out, shutting the door soundly. "They just come in today, Mingo, for supplies."

"Who?" Songbird asked.

"Oh no one important, just a couple of trappers," Mingo answered.

Cincinnatus nodded and took her hand. "Well Songbird, we sure are gonna miss your purty smile around here. You come back and visit us real soon."

The Choctaw maiden gave him one of her pretty smiles. "I am so glad to have met you, Cincinnatus. And I do not think you are, how did Mingo say it, persnickety?"

Mingo rolled his eyes.

"_Persnickety eh_?" he winked at the Cherokee. "Why I ain't never had a persnickety day in my life."

Songbird laughed.

"Wait just one minute," the older man said. "Be right back" He went in the tavern and was back in a second with a brown package. "Here's some more of that tobbaccky your Pa likes."

Songbird took it. "Thank you, Cincinnatus, he will be so pleased." The pretty young woman had managed to touch a soft spot in the older man's heart.

Cincinnatus looked at Mingo. "Would it be improper of me if I gave her a hug?"

The Cherokee smiled at his friend. "I do not think it would be improper if Songbird does not think so."

Songbird put out her arms and the grizzled tavern keeper very gently hugged her.

"I meant it when I said come back and visit," he whispered. "You put a twinkle in old Mingo's eyes ain't none of us ever seen before."

"I will, Cincinnatus, thank you," she told him.

When they reached the gate of the settlement, Mingo and Songbird turned and waved to the tavern keeper who was still watching them from the doorway. "What did he say to you?" Mingo asked her.

"Oh nothing important," she answered.

* * *

Israel Boone was waiting and watching the trail from Boonesborough to their cabin. The oak stump he sat on was older than he. The result of a lightning storm many years before, it was a favorite place for him to perch when someone would be coming down the trail. Israel knew Mingo and Songbird would be on their way soon. He wanted to be the first to see them so he could announce their arrival.

The birds overhead were gathering in large groups as they always did this time of year. Their endless warbling began to get on his little boy nerves.

"Criminently, can't ya find somebody else to fly around?"

His endless stare into the woods beyond the road made the trees begin to dance in his eyes. Suddenly from behind two powerful hands jerked him off the stump, one over his eyes, one over his middle.

"Let me go you old Shawnee or Creek or whoever you are!" he shouted and shook to get out of their grasp.

Then just as suddenly the hands set him down on the ground and turned him around to face them.

"Mingo!!!!" the blond-mopped lad shouted. "Doggone I shoulda knowed it was you!"

He kicked the dirt in disgust and embarrassment. This had to happen in front of Songbird.

The Cherokee held on to his own middle as he laughed. "Israel Boone, how many times have your father and I told you about daydreaming when you are alone in the woods?"

"Oh," he muttered with his chin on his chest. "About a thousand I guess."

"That is just about right," Mingo continued only to be nudged out of the way by Songbird.

"Mingo, that was not very nice of you to scare Israel like that." She bent down to the boy's eye level. "Are you all right, Israel?"

"Oh I weren't scared ma'am, just mad at myself for lettin' Mingo sneak up on me again. He's always doin' that."

She turned to the Cherokee who was grinning, then he stopped. "Well the boy has to learn, Songbird," he observed.

Israel stood with his back to Songbird, her hands on his shoulders. "I would think there would be a better way than scaring him like that."

Mingo took delight in her motherly ways. "Oh Israel does not mind, do you boy?"

Israel stomped the ground and shook his finger at the tall warrior. "Someday, Mingo, I'm gonna sneak up on you. I'm gonna find you sleepin' under some big ol' birch tree, and I'm gonna make you jump right out of your moccasins."

Mingo bent down on one knee and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Israel, I will make a pact with you. The day that you sneak up on me and make me jump…" He took his hand-carved, bone-handled hunting knife from its sheath. The blade shone in the sunlight, reflecting in the boy's wide-open eyes. "…I will give you my knife."

"You mean it, Mingo?" Israel asked.

"I mean it, Master Boone," he answered.

"And the sheath too?" Israel added.

Mingo looked up and winked at Songbird, "And the sheath too."

Israel's hand shot out to the Cherokee. "Shake on it!"

Mingo put his hand out in the manly gesture and they shook on it.

"Done!" they both remarked in unison.

"Criminently," Israel pondered, then took off on a dead run. "Pa, Pa!! Guess what Mingo said," his voice trailing off toward the Boone cabin in the distance.

Songbird's pony was saddled along with one of the pack horses, ready for their trip back home. Running Deer and Daniel were on the porch listening to an out of breath Israel tell of the pact he had just made.

"That's what he said, Pa," the boy wheezed.

Mingo and Songbird reached the porch just in time to hear the breathless tale. Israel went inside to tell his mother.

Daniel spoke up, "You know, Mingo that's quite a wager you made with my boy. I know how fond you are of that knife of yours."

Mingo nodded, "Daniel, if Israel can sneak up on me and make me jump then he will certainly have earned that knife."

Running Deer stepped off the porch and stood next to the Cherokee man.

Daniel was still on the top step. "If Israel sneaks up on you and makes you jump. Well by golly I hope I am there to see it," the big man grinned.

"And I hope I'm there with you, Daniel," Running Deer agreed.

Mingo laughed, "You know me, Daniel. I am a man of my word. I always keep my wagers."

"Speaking of wagers," Rebecca's voice rang out. The lady of the house stepped onto the porch carrying a sack. She was followed by Jemima and Israel, who was grinning from ear to ear when he saw Mingo.

"Running Deer," Daniel said as he stepped off the porch. "You tell Chief Standing Bear how grateful the people of Boonesborough are for the generosity of the Choctaw."

The two men of the wilderness, red and white, shook hands. "I will tell him, Daniel. And thank you, Mrs. Boone and your children for your kindness."

The tall Daniel Boone took Songbird's hand in his and patted it. "Mighty nice to meet you, Songbird. You come back and visit us anytime you like."

Songbird beamed. "Thank you, Daniel," she said quietly.

Jemima shook Running Deer's hand and hugged Songbird. "Come back soon," Jemima told her.

Israel walked up to the Choctaw warrior and put out his hand, "Thanks, Running Deer for showing me how a Choctaw shoots a bow," Running Deer took his hand and shook it. "You are welcome, Israel. And when you sneak up on Mingo I want to hear the whole story."

The boy giggled, "Come back and see us, Songbird."

"I will, Israel and keep an eye on Mingo for me," she told him.

"I will," the boy shouted and ran back to his Pa.

Rebecca joined them. She handed Running Deer the sack. " Running Deer, it was very nice meeting you. These are just some leftovers for you to have on your trip home. Please tell your mother and father thank you for being so kind to us."

"I will, Mrs. Boone, thank you."

Rebecca turned to Songbird who stood by her pony. The redhead couldn't help herself, the tears started again. "Songbird, having you here even for this short time, it was like having my little sister back with me. If you don't come back and visit us, I will come after you."

Songbird laughed, "Thank you, Rebecca. Everything Mingo told me about you and your family is true. I will be back soon, I promise."

Rebecca hugged her and whispered in her ear, "He will ask you in his own time."

Songbird whispered back, "I can wait for him."

Both women had tears streaming down their cheeks.

Mingo, Dan, and Running Deer looked at each other and shook their heads.

"There goes them onions agin, Pa," Israel moaned.

Daniel patted his boy's on the head. "Sh, Is'rul, that's what women do when they say goodbye."

Running Deer tied the sack of food on the third horse. "Sister, it is time for us to go." He got on his horse. Mingo handed him the reins to the other. Running Deer turned and waved to them all and started down the trail. The Boone family waved goodbye and stepped back into the cabin all but the youngest Boone.

Jemima grabbed her brother by the ear. "Come on, Israel!"

* * *

Until this moment, Mingo had not thought about how truly hard it was going to be to say goodbye to her. "I will come to you before the snow flies, I promise."

He could see the tears begin to fill her eyes. "Onions?" he smiled.

Her head nodded yes.

"I promise I will come to you before the snow begins to fly, so many times you will tire of me."

Her little voice sang to him, "I will never tire of you."

Mingo's strong arms encircled her in a hug of goodbye, "_Gv-ge-you-hi_," "That is _I love you _in my Cherokee tongue."

"_Chi hullo li_," "That is _I love you _in my Choctaw," she answered.

Each waited for the next moment to happen, the reserve of their first meeting returning.

"Ain't ya gonna kiss her, Mingo!!" the high-pitched voice of Israel Boone shouted as he ran out on the porch.

Daniel raced out, grabbed his son, and hurried back into the house. Mingo and Songbird laughed as the door to the cabin shut suddenly.

"Sorry!" Daniel's voice roared from inside.

Mingo saw that Running Deer had stopped down the trail and was waiting.

"Until next we meet," he said and kissed her. Then he lifted her onto her pony and gave her the reins. Neither of them could say the word_, goodbye_.

When she reached Running Deer, brother and sister turned and waved.

* * *

Mingo stood in the yard and watched until they were out of sight. Then he watched some more, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Feel like cuttin' and stackin' some wood?" Daniel asked.

"What?" Mingo turned to see his friend's smiling face. "Oh certainly, Daniel, I will help you." "All right," Daniel said. "I'll cut and you stack."

The big frontiersman took off his vest and threw it on the porch. Mingo did the same with his coat. Daniel grabbed the axe and Mingo sat a piece of wood on the stump. Before the axe fell on the first piece Rebecca and Jemima walked out the door.

"We're going to the store, do you men need anything?" Becky asked.

The two men shook their heads no.

Rebecca kissed Dan, "Israel is inside doing some lessons. I told him at least one half hour. See you later." Mrs. Boone gave her husband a look that Mingo was not supposed to see.

When the women were out of ear shod, Mingo stopped what he was doing. "What was that look for, Daniel?"

"What look?" the big man answered coyly.

"Daniel?"

"Get another piece of wood up there, Mingo? I've got a rhythm." The Cherokee placed another piece on the stump. They cut and stacked for a half an hour, until the sun was just overhead.

Daniel stopped and wiped his brow with his sleeve, "Whew, Mingo, I need a rest." Daniel sat down on the edge of the porch.

"Why don't I cut for a bit, Daniel?" The Cherokee grabbed the axe sticking out of the stump.

"Aww Mingo, why not come and sit for a spell."

Mingo sat down by his friend. They both stretched out their long legs in front of them as always. Finally Daniel slapped him on the knee,

"Mingo," he hesitated, "Rebecca seems to think Songbird is the _one_."

Without questioning what he meant by the _one_ Mingo asked, "And what do you think, Daniel?"

Daniel could tell by his friend's demeanor it was something he wanted to talk about. "I think, Mingo, if my opinion means that much to you then maybe Becky's right. She usually is right about these things you know."

"Yes, she usually is, Daniel."

The big man leaned back into his pondering position. With clasped hands he pointed to his friend, "Let me ask you this, when you're away from her, is she all you think about?"

Mingo's dimples accompanied the big smile on his face as he nodded yes.

Daniel continued, "And when you're together, does it feel right? Like there's nuthin' or nobody else in the world 'cept the two of you?"

The Cherokee looked him in the eye, "Songbird makes me feel like a man, Daniel, not white, not Cherokee, but a man. It does not matter to her how long my hair is, how I speak, what I wear, what my past life has been, or who my father is."

Daniel liked what he was hearing. "Mingo, my friend, I think Songbird _is_ the one. Did you throw the pebble yet?"

"Throw a pebble at who?" a little voice came from around the corner. "Who ya gonna throw a pebble at, Mingo?" Israel Boone queried.

The two men made a face at each other. "Is'rul, aren't you supposed to be doin' your lessons?"

"I finished em, Pa, I really did. Who ya gonna throw a pebble at, Mingo?" he said again.

The Cherokee nodded to Daniel his approval to explain.

Daniel Boone picked up his son and set him on his lap. "Is'rul, this is just gonna be between you and me and Mingo, all right?"

"All right, Pa," the little boy's face beamed at being included as one of the men again.

The father took a deep breath. "Is'rul, in Choctaw ways if a man wants to propose to a lady, he waits until he's at supper with that lady and her family, her ma and pa and such. And when they're all sittin' round the fire, and when no one's lookin' he tosses a pebble or a twig at that lady. And if she tosses it back at him, well then that means she says yes."

Daniel and Mingo eyed each other, waiting for a response. Israel sat and churned all that he had been told. Then suddenly with a big, toothy grin he yelled "Songbird! You're gonna throw that pebble at Songbird, ain't ya Mingo?"

Mingo grabbed the boy's foot that was dangling, "Man to man, Israel, what would you think of that idea, of me asking Songbird to be my wife?"

The youngster thought for only a moment,

"I think it's fine, Mingo. I like her, she's pretty and she's smart like you and she told me she could skip a rock further than you too."

Mingo's face lit up as did Daniel's "Oh she did, did she?" the Cherokee asked him.

"Yep," then his little face went serious, "But man to man, Mingo I think you better throw that pebble at Songbird real quick, before somebody beats you to it."

Daniel and Mingo laughed so hard tears came to their eyes. "I think you are absolutely right, Master Boone," Mingo assured him.

The proud father hugged his little boy tight. "Now, Is'rul, this is just between you us men here. You can't go tellin' anybody else, you understand?"

"Why not, Pa?"

"Well cuz Mingo ain't asked Songbird yet and she should hear it from him first don't you agree? It's a man's place to do the askin' and it's a real special time for the two of em. Understand son?"

"Yes sir, Pa."

"Good, now did you really finish all your lessons?" his father asked him.

"Yes, sir I did."

"Well good then," he put the blond bundle down on the ground, "Then you can help me and Mingo finish cuttin' this wood for your ma."

Israel grabbed the biggest piece of wood he could find and struggled until he had it up on the stump for Mingo to cut.


	10. Chapter 10

WINTER

Chapter 10

Four weeks had passed since Songbird and Running Deer had returned home. The people of Boonesborough worked together stocking the three community root cellars with what they could spare from their own food supplies. With all they had and with what the Choctaw had given them Daniel felt certain they could make it through the winter providing it wasn't a hard one.

"We'll just have to tighten our belts a little," he told his fellow settlers. "I know I could stand to lose a few pounds. Just ask Becky."

It was now close to the end of November. Off and on there was snow on the ground, but not enough to hinder hunting or fishing. Mingo returned from Chota where he helped his people prepare for the winter. He was getting ready to visit Songbird. It had been much too long. He knew she would be upset, but time had escaped him.

Inside his lodge by Birch Tree River he was almost ready to leave. His rifle and powder horn over his shoulder, he checked his pack for the necessities. His flint and steel, enough food for the journey to the Choctaw village, rifle balls, bandages and medicinal needs, always, just in case.

"Hello the lodge," a familiar voice bellowed.

"Come in, Daniel," Mingo answered. The big man ducked inside the flap of the lodge.

"All ready to go?" Daniel asked.

Mingo laid his rifle back down for a moment. "I think so, Daniel, just checking my pack."

Daniel bent down on one knee, "Mingo, is that a new pack? Never seen that one. Mighty nice lookin' too."

The Cherokee smiled, and handed it to his friend. It was a little bigger than most and had fancy stitching on the outside. "Yes it is new. Songbird made it for me. Look inside," The big man opened up the bag. "You see she made two separate sections inside, one for my extra shot, flint and steel and medicines, and the other for my food so they don't mix."

Daniel's eyes gleamed in delight, "Well that's real nice, Mingo, but what's this?" The man in buckskins pulled out a tiny dried up bouquet of wild flowers held together with a leather tie.

Mingo grabbed it quickly, "Never you mind, Daniel."

"You know, Mingo, you just better be careful when you're reaching for a rifle ball that you don't come up with those flowers. I don't think the Shawnee would be able to keep a straight face."

Mingo took the pack back from him and stood up. "Daniel, was the purpose of your visit today just to make sure I did not leave without a bit of your buckskin humor?"

Daniel smiled and groaned as he got up off his knee, "Well, Mingo, if that means did I want one more chance to pull your leg before you left then yes, that and to say goodbye and give ya somethin',"

"Give me what?" the Cherokee asked.

"This," Daniel answered and held out a closed hand to his friend. When he opened it, there was a small, round pebble in it. "Just in case you needed remindin'"

Mingo grinned, reached into his pack and brought out a cloth pouch. He poured the contents into his hand. Three more pebbles, two about the same size as Daniel's and one larger stone, the size of a chestnut.

One was pure white and shiny, "Rebecca," Mingo said as he held it up.

The next was black, speckled with many colors, "Jemima," he said.

When he held up the bigger stone, they both said, "Israel," together.

"He wanted to make sure that Songbird knew I meant business. All three of them came alone, obviously Israel did not keep the secret," Mingo laughed.

Daniel took hold of Mingo's arm, "Well Mingo, we're all just so doggoned happy for you and we all like her. I guess we just wanted to help. That's all."

"I appreciate that, Daniel and so will Songbird."

They stepped outside of the lodge. It was still early enough that he could make it to Wild Geese Lake by dark and then on to the Choctaw village the next morning.

"You have a safe trip, tell Songbird and Running Deer hello, and we'll see you for in time for keepin' Christmas."

"That you will, Daniel," the Cherokee said and headed out to see his Songbird.

* * *

The trails from Boonesborough to Chota and from Boonesborough to the Choctaw village were well worn by Mingo. After keeping Christmas with the Boones, Mingo went as often as he could to see Songbird. Snowfall was normal into the new year and when it got too deep he borrowed Cincinnatus' snowshoes that always hung in the back room of the tavern.

In his journeys to the Choctaw camp Mingo got to know every cave, every tree, every trail, any place where he could take shelter if the winds or snow got too bad.

So far he had not used any of them.

The food supplies at both Chota and Boonesborough looked as though they would last them until the spring thaw. It wasn't until mid-February that things began to go downhill. The icy winds blew in and did not leave. The temperatures dropped so low that the Kentucky and Cumberland rivers, and Findley and Wild Geese Lakes all froze solid. Ice so thick it was impossible to cut it for ice fishing. Even the wells froze so that the settlers had to melt snow for water.

Trappers who normally spent the winter in the outdoors running their lines came to the settlement for safe haven. The Christian people of Boonesborough refused no one who knocked on the main gate for shelter. Wade Tolliver and Swede Anderssen were among them. They assured Daniel Boone when they could get back to their lines they would give the people of Boonesborough the money from their cache of furs in return for their hospitality.

The foodstuffs in the three root cellars soon dwindled down to just one. Rationing was overseen by Daniel and Cincinnatus. Those travelers who didn't have a place to stay either slept in the tavern or were taken in by the people of Boonesborough. Their hearty spirits and faith in God kept them all going.

Daniel and Becky took all they had from their own root cellar and put it into the last remaining community one. They moved into one of the rooms upstairs over the tavern when the snow began to pile up and the trail from their cabin to the settlement became impassable.

It looked like March was going to come in like a lion and it did. For two straight weeks it snowed with no end in sight. The salted meat and jerky supply was all but gone. Men of Boonesborough took turns hunting for fresh meat, but if the snow didn't deter them, the lack of game did. Dog-tired and hungry, day after day, night after night they came back empty handed.

"It just ain't natural," Tupper said. "It's supposed to be spring in another week or so." He and Daniel, Mingo, and Cincinnatus stood at the bar talking quietly so as not to disturb the temporary residents of the tavern. It was close to ten o'clock in the evening. Most all of the residents were asleep wherever they could find a place to bed down.

"It does not look good, Daniel, does it?" Mingo asked him.

The big man shook his head, and whispered "Not if this snow doesn't let up soon it don't. We've got about enough supplies for another week." He looked over the sleeping tenants. "We best keep this between us four."

Tupper leaned on the bar, "Funny ain't it, last summer we was beggin' for water, didn't get any. Now we got all we want, it just ain't wet, it's froze. Trapped in this promised land of the Cherokee, no offense, Mingo," the burly man said.

"None taken," Mingo answered.

Tupper stretched, "Well I got the night watch tonight, time to relieve ol' Isaac. I will bid you gentlemen a goodnight." He started for the door.

"Tupper, when you come in tomorrow mornin' I think we better have a town meetin' and let everybody know just what is going on," Daniel said to them all.

"All right, Dan'l, see you in the morning." Tupper left as quietly as he could.

Mingo began to close up his coat around him, "You know, Daniel, I think I will go out hunting for an hour or so. I know it is my Cherokee way, but I thought I heard some turkey roosting earlier."

"All right, Mingo, but don't stay out there too long," Daniel told him.

"That's right, Mingo," Cincinnatus added, "Ain't worth freezin' to death over a wild goose chase or in this case a wild turkey chase."

Mingo and Daniel shook their heads at their friend's humor. "You can be assured, gentlemen, I will return before I get too cold."

The Cherokee picked up his rifle that leaned where it always did, by Daniel's at the door. "Be careful," Daniel said in a loud whisper. Mingo waved and left.

"Guess I'll go upstairs and join my family. You better bed down too, Cincinnatus. Tomorrow ain't gonna be a picnic for the people of Boonesborugh." The big man turned up the staircase, "Night, Cincinnatus."

"Night, Dan'l," the tavern keeper said.

* * *

The next morning the snow had not ceased. Daniel and Cincinnatus gathered all the residents and temporary residents of Boonesborough into the tavern for the meeting. Jemima and the older children agreed to keep the younger ones in the back while Daniel had his talk.

"No sense in upsetting the little ones," Daniel said.

Once Tupper came in from his watch Daniel started. He explained to them all, just how long he thought the supplies would last.

"Weather's gotta break sometime folks, all we can do is pray and I know you all been doin' that already."

"Dan'l," Tupper interrupted.

"Just a minute, Tupper, then you can have your say," Daniel waved impatiently. "The men will continue to hunt a little each day.."

"Dan'l," Tupper said again.

The big man stopped, "What _is_ it, Tupper?"

"Well, that's what I wanted to tell you. Mingo never come back from huntin' last night."

Daniel looked shocked, "What do you mean he never came back?"

Tupper leaned his rifle by the door and walked to the bar. "Just what I said, he never come back in. I was at the gate all night."

Whispers and mumbling traveled across the room, then one voice from the back rang out.

"That thievin' redskin; you better check those supplies in that root cellar, Boone. I bet he took em and high-tailed it outta here. Goin' to meet that little Choctaw woman of his. Him and all his flowery talk."

The voice was Wade Tolliver's.

"Now just a gol-darned minute, Tolliver," Cincinnatus said, but the mumbling got louder.

Tolliver stood up on a bench, "I never did trust that schemin' half-breed; you people been horn-swoggled by a half-..."

He never finished his sentence. Daniel dragged him off the bench and threw him up against the wall.

"I don't like the word half-breed and I especially don't like you callin' my friend a thief." He let go of Tolliver's shirt, "You're lucky you and your partner are even stayin' here. Now keep your mouth shut!"

Swede Anderssen stood up, "We told you we'd pay for our keep, Boone, just as soon as we get back to our trap lines!"

Daniel faced him, "And I told you to keep your mouths shut!"

Swede sat back down and Tolliver sat with him.

Daniel walked back up to the front of the room wondering what to say next.

Cincinnatus came out from the back room. "Dan'l, my snowshoes are gone."

Daniel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Tupper, did Mingo have Cincinnatus' snowshoes when he left last night?"

"Come to think of it, Dan'l, yes he did," Tupper said.

"Darn fool Cherokee," Daniel mumbled loud enough for Becky and all of the rest of the people in the room to hear.

"Dan?" Becky looked at him.

"Mingo. If I know him he's gone to the Choctaw village to see if they have any supplies they can give us. He mentioned it in passing the other day and I told him not to even think about it."

"Oh, Dan, no," Rebecca put her head in her hands.

"In this snowstorm," Cincinnatus said, "He'll never make it alive."

Tupper picked up his gun and started for the door.

"Now just where do you think you're goin' ?" Daniel shouted.

"Well we're goin' after him, ain't we?"

"No we ain't, one durn fool out in that Satan's blanket of snow is enough. 'Sides if anyone can make it through Mingo can. He knows that trail to the Choctaw better 'n any man here." He turned and looked at all the men. "So don't any of ya get any crazy ideas………..Tupper??"

The burly man shut the door. "All right, Dan'l."

"Well, I'll believe it when I see it!" Tolliver mumbled just a little too loud. Daniel went after him like a raging bull. It took Cincinnatus, Tupper and Isaac to hold him back.

"Ain't worth it, Dan'l," the tavern keeper said. "Ain't worth it. Why don't you lead us all in a prayer for Mingo?" But he could see the worry in the big man's eyes.

"Rebecca?" Cincinnatus asked.

Mrs. Daniel Boone took out her Bible and started to read, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…" (Psalm 23)

…and the rest of the room joined in with her.


	11. Chapter 11

WINTER

Chapter 11

It snowed for three days straight, the heavy, wet snow that allowed no travel of any kind in it. Mingo bundled up as best he could, and trudged through the towering snow banks. His keen sense of direction was his only friend as he made his way through the blinding white death. Halfway was a cave where he stopped for the night, but the wet snow made it impossible to build a fire. He was out of the wind, but not out of the cold. It was good that he had taken Cincinnatus' snowshoes with him.

When he finally reached the outer borders of the Choctaw camp, two of their scouts found him. "I must see Chief Standing Bear right away," he said. The two braves helped him back to their village.

After telling Chief Standing Bear about the people in Boonesborough the Cherokee collapsed from exhaustion and exposure to the elements. Frost bite had begun to set in on his fingers and toes. His bronzed face was wind burned and chapped and his clothes were soaked from the wet snow he had struggled through.

"Take him to our lodge." the Chief told his wife, Wildflower. The two scouts carried the sick man to the home of their Chief. Inside, the floor was covered with bearskins and a warm fire was burning.

Wildflower had married her husband when she was a maiden of sixteen years.. That was thirty-five years ago and she was still a very beautiful woman. Her hair was now gray, but still vibrant. She had doctored this Cherokee warrior before and now she would do it again.

Mingo was a man in danger of dying from the trip he had undertaken. Even his long, dark eyelashes had frozen ice crystals on them. The raven locks that reached past his shoulders began to thaw as they laid him close to the fire. Wildflower instructed the two scouts to get more fire wood. "Much more wood," she told them.

Songbird was at her side.

The young Choctaw woman looked at the handsome man she loved, now weak, and cold, and very near death. Tears streamed down her face.

"You must be strong for him," her mother told her. "He will get his strength from you."

They removed his coat and shirt and covered him with two heavy elk skin blankets. "Bring, my son, Running Deer," Wildflower told the scouts when they came back loaded with firewood.

Trembling from the frigid journey he had undertaken, Mingo's face had no color. His body, arms and legs were like ice. Delirium led to mumblings about his mother and brother, and a fever had set in.

"I shot Tara Mingo, Daniel, and buried him…..and sang their death songs.." his face was wet with his own tears as he rambled incoherently.

Running Deer had come and gone, doing as his mother asked.

Songbird quivered as she held Mingo's icy hands in hers, stroking each finger to rid them of frostbite. She wanted to hear his laugh as only she could make him laugh.

But he was quiet and still.

All night Songbird and her mother stayed at his side, only once did he open his eyes. When he saw Songbird, he smiled weakly. First he was hot then cold, his body shook and beads of sweat shone on his forehead His lips were blue.

"I am so cold," he whispered and closed his eyes again.

Wildflower managed to get only a small amount of broth between his lips in the hours since he had collapsed. The older woman knew of the deep love between Mingo and her daughter. She also knew what would get warmth back into his body. Wildflower nodded to her beautiful daughter, then left, making sure the door flap to the lodge was closed and tied.

No one else would enter. They would be alone.

* * *

Songbird watched as Mingo stirred and turned on his side, struggling to get the blankets over his shoulders and still he trembled. It hurt to see the warrior she loved in such distress.

His pain was hers.

The wind howled outside as she untied the laces that held together the buckskin dress she wore. It quietly fell off her shoulders to the floor. Wearing only her long, thin winter undergarment, she slipped under the blankets and lay next to him. Her body was as close to his as it could be.

She gently massaged his shoulder, pressed up against his strong back and let her hand lay across his chest. His heartbeat was slow from the exposure to the cold But as she lay beside him she felt him relax. His labored respiration lessened and the trembling of his body slowed.

Then he slept soundly, as did she, waking only to be certain he was still breathing.

* * *

The raging snows subsided over the next several hours and the winds no longer shook the sides of the lodge. Mingo woke, clear-headed, weak, but with no fever and the burning cold in his body was gone.

How long he had been unconscious he wasn't sure.

The fire in his toes and fingers was gone and warmth had come back to his body. The last thing he remembered was collapsing in Standing Bear's arms, frozen and dying of exposure. He had made it to the Choctaw village; now he wondered if they were able to help the starving people of Boonesborough.

Mingo looked around to get his bearings. He recognized Chief Standing Bear's lodge. The heavy blanket that covered him felt good. Then something under the covers moved beside him.

Something small and fragile, and alive.

His dark eyes glimmered in caring when he saw her. Now he knew how his life had been saved. His Songbird shared the warmth of her body with him. The beauty of her next to him filled an emptiness of long-standing. Her head lay on his chest. He put his arm around her and pulled her in closer.

Gazing deeply into her now open eyes, "I wish I could wake up like this every morning," he said weakly. They were the first words he had spoken since his mission of hope that almost took his life.

"It is but one question away," she whispered. Then he felt her tears on his chest..

"What is this?" he said wiping them from her face.

"I thought I had lost you forever," she cried.

Mingo smiled at her.

"Your warmth saved my life," he kissed her. "I remember you and your mother.."

"She was here, but she left us alone. It was her idea that I lay beside you. You mumble in your sleep you know," Songbird told him.

"I did? What did I mumble about?"

She snuggled even closer to him. "Other women."

Mingo lifted his head, "Other women?"

"Rebecca, Jemima?" she teased him.

He laid his head back down. The touch of her hand on his face warmed him even more.

"You have loved no other woman?"

A faraway thought lasted only a moment, for him. "In another place, another time, and another world," he murmured. "Now all I want is you close to me. _Always_ this close to me."

"You need some food to get your strength back," and she started to get up.

The touch of her leg to his made him take notice of what he was wearing under their blanket--or what he wasn't wearing. His eyes squinted in dismay.

"I am wearing a breech-cloth," he said.

"Yes," she answered, her playful eyes sparkled.

"I do not wear breech-cloths; I do not like breech-cloths, " he informed her.

She pressed in to him. "Your pants were soaking wet and shredded. We had to put something on you."

A chill went through him. "We?" his voice cracked at the thought of she and her mother undressing him.

"The breech-cloth is Running Deer's," she assured him.

"Running Deer's?"

"Yes."

"And did he?" the Cherokee asked.

"Yes, he put it on you," she replied.

His sigh filled the lodge as he wiggled around under the blankets.

"I do not like it," he exclaimed.

Her eyes sparkled again. " I can help you out of it if you like."

He scowled at her. "You are a vixen. I am a sick man."

Her hand went to his chest; where there was a strong and steady heartbeat.

"And I will take care of you, forever and always." she whispered in his ear.

Mingo pulled the blanket up over them and took her hands in his.

"You know in Cherokee belief, when a man and a woman share a blanket, it means they are very close to being married."

Songbird looked into his eyes. "Are you, Mingo, my brave warrior, asking me to be your wife?"

He sat up, letting the blanket fall off his broad shoulders. Songbird sat up beside him. He held her close to him, and whispered, "Forever and always."

"When?"

"When next the wildflowers of summer bloom in your meadow," he answered.

And they kissed.

He laid back down still weak, but stronger now, than when her father's scouts brought him to their camp. Songbird began to get up, but he would not let go of her.

"You have not eaten for days, you need some food," she told him.

"All I need, all I want is you here beside me, for the rest of my life."

She melted back into his embrace. Their eyes closed as the winter winds began to howl once more outside the lodge.

* * *

Mingo awoke to a cold breeze wafting across his bare arms. The opening flap to the lodge closed quickly. A welcome aroma and warmth filled the inside. Someone had come in, built up the fire and left something that smelled wonderful to the hungry man.

What day it was, what time it was, he still had no idea _and_ had no interest in knowing.

He looked over and saw Songbird still sleeping beside him. With his fingers, he brushed back the dark locks of hair that covered her face. Her eyes were closed, but he saw her tiny nose wrinkle at the smell of the food.

He knew she was pretending to be asleep.

Gently, Mingo put his finger on her nose. " I think you are awake, little one. Your nose is wrinkling like the rabbit who waits to see if the carrot is going to come to her, or if she must go to the carrot."

She smiled, opened her eyes and took in the aroma, "It is my mother's venison broth." Songbird sat up quickly, pulled her hair around to her back and began to stand up. "I will get some for you."

By the fire was a large covered container and two small cups made out of dried gourds.

Mingo tried to get up, but Songbird stopped him. She stood, with her hands on her hips. Once more she looked like that other woman with the red hair he has seen stand in the very same determined way many times before.

"If you do not stay in bed," Songbird spoke, " I will have to tell Rebecca there will be no more Irish stew and no more molasses cookies for you."

The Cherokee pursed his lips, "You would not do that to me, would you?"

Her stalwart stance and general-like glare answered his question. He lowered himself back down onto the blanket, hiding the grin on his face from her.

She knelt down beside him,

"You need to stay in bed, and rest some more. You were so weak when they brought you here. Do you remember?"

Mingo nodded, " I remember being so cold, that my fingers and toes were numb," he trembled at the memory of it. "I remember waking up once to see your face and your mother's behind you."

Songbird took the extra elk skin blanket that Wildflower had left and propped it up behind him, so he could sit up. Then she tucked the other blanket that covered his legs around his waist.

He snuggled in her care as she did so.

"And then I remember waking up the next time and you were close beside me under this blanket. Your warmth kept me from visiting the happy hunting ground.,

"The happy land, my people call it," Songbird said.

"Whatever it is called, I am not ready to go there. Not yet, not now," he reached up and kissed her on the cheek.

"And do you remember asking me to be your wife?"

The handsome Cherokee leaned back, stretching out on the blanket. He clasped his hands behind his head, deep in thought.

Her eyes did not leave him.

"Mmmmm no, I do not remember that. Was I delirious with fever?" the look of wonder on his visage masked his teasing

"Again," she gently slapped his bare chest. "You play with my deepest feelings."

Mingo raised up and sighed, "I am sorry, Songbird. I never meant to hurt you with my teasing."

He took the blanket from behind him, placed it around their shoulders and pulled her close as he had before.

* * *

In a gentle voice that called to her, he spoke.

"My precious Songbird, I wish for you to be my wife, forever and for always. To share the rest of our days close and warm as we share this blanket today. To raise a family and grow old together. Will you grant me that wish?"

The Choctaw maiden nodded with tears in her eyes, her voice failing her in the rapture of his words and the passion of his embrace. If there had been no blanket, the warmth of his arms around her would have been enough.

She had thrown back the pebble.

Songbird cleared her throat, composure not coming easy. She put the blanket behind him again so that he sat up comfortably.

"Now then you need some food, you have not eaten in such a long time."

Mingo rested his arms across his chest and with determination in his voice, asked, "You are not going to feed me that venison broth are you? A Cherokee warrior such as I would much rather have a venison steak."

Songbird dished up some of the broth in one of the cups, "Only I know just how strong a man you are even in your present weakened state, but this broth is the best thing for you right now."

"I am feeling _very_ strong," he leered at her.

And she leered back at him.

"I _know_ you are."

The beautiful maiden held out the cup of broth to him. "Do you want me to tell Wildflower you refused to drink her broth? Are you saying my mother does not know how to take care of a sick man?"

With a furrowed brow he took the steaming cup of broth and drank slowly. It had chunks of venison and carrots cut up in it. She snickered as she had gotten his goat once more. It tasted so good, he asked for a second. When he finished, Mingo leaned back on the soft fur of the blanket. Songbird knew she was right, the ordeal of his perilous journey had taken much out of him. Not everything out of him, but much.

She stood over him, still wearing her light winter undergarment. Her buckskin dress still on the floor of the lodge.

Mingo placed his hand on the blanket beside him, "Come rest with me, you are tired also. I know you did not sleep that first night they brought me to you."

Songbird slipped her dress on over her head. "I must see my mother and father. They will want to know how you are. I will come back later and let you know if Running Deer got the supplies to Boonesborough ."

Mingo put his hand out to her and she took it. "Thank you," he said. and closed his eyes in sleep.

Songbird bent down, put his arm across his chest and pulled the blanket up over him. Her lips touched his forehead. She stood and watched him sleep for a few moments before she left him alone.

"Thank you, Great Spirit, for saving my Cherokee warrior," she said as she opened the flap of the lodge to a burst of sunshine.


	12. Chapter 12

SPRING

Chapter 12

Mingo's venture was a success. Running Deer and his braves got the much needed supplies to the people of Boonesborough. It took them four days to make the journey, but they got there just before the last few foodstuffs were being rationed out by Daniel.

The snow had subsided and warmer temperatures began the spring thaw. All the people of Boonesborough prayed they never had to face that lion of March again.

Running Deer reported to them that although Mingo had suffered some frostbite and exposure, he was in the good hands of his mother and sister.

"If I know Mingo," Running Deer said, "He will return to you as soon as he is well enough to travel. And I am certain he will not be traveling alone, if _someone _has her way."

Daniel and Rebecca stood on their front porch. They thanked Running Deer and the Choctaw for their generosity once more.

"Tell your people, next year when our crops are good and bountiful we will share with them as they have with us."

Running Deer leaned over and whispered something to the big frontiersman. Daniel's laughter could be heard all through the cabin as he went inside and returned with the extra pair of blue woolen trousers that Mingo kept there.

The Choctaw warrior and his braves returned back home.

* * *

Late March turned quickly to April. With Songbird and her mother's nursing, Mingo regained his strength. Sturdy and firm of muscle he was ready to travel, first to Chota to see his people and how they fared the terrible storm and then back to Boonesborough.

Running Deer was right, he would not be traveling alone. Songbird would be with him. They vowed never to be apart again.

Menewa and his Cherokee people made it through the rogue March snowstorm with enough foodstuffs. Like Boonesborough and Daniel, Menewa had to ration it for his people to survive. There were more mouths to feed in Boonesborough than in Chota, but still it was a winter none of them hoped they ever had to face again. He scolded his nephew for putting himself in such danger, but understood the heart and honor of a Cherokee warrior.

The blue skies of April followed Mingo and Songbird as they made their way to Boonesborough. They saw the smoke from the chimney of the Boone's cabin. No Israel waiting on his stump, their arrival would be a surprise.

Mingo looked overhead, "It is mid-day they are probably having a meal." His eyes brightened, "You do not suppose Rebecca would be having her Irish stew. Walk quickly, Songbird," He held her hand. "For I do believe I can smell it."

They approached an empty yard, an empty front porch, but an open door. In his best attempt at an Irish brogue Mingo shouted,

"Would the lady of the house be in and would she be cookin' some of her famous Irish stew?"

The first voice was Israel's, "Mingo!!!!" he burst out the door and threw himself into the Cherokee's open arms.

"Israel, have I been gone that long? You look as tall as I." Mingo hugged him and put him back down on the ground.

The rest of the Boones followed suit coming out to meet their friend.. Israel made his way to Songbird, "Hi Songbird," he shouted.

Jemima hugged Mingo and then Songbird.

Daniel shook the Choctaw maiden's hand, while Rebecca took hold of Mingo and squeezed him hard. "Oh Mingo, why did you do such a fool thing?" she started to cry and squeezed him again.

"Now Rebecca," he held her tight.

"Songbird," Daniel said, "It sure is good to see you."

"Thank you, Daniel. It is good to see you too."

Rebecca then came to Songbird; she hugged her and looked in her eyes as if asking a question.

Songbird nodded yes.

"Oh my goodness," the red head remarked.

Daniel stepped up to his blood brother, and put out his hand. "Don't you ever do a fool thing like that again," he said then smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. "We owe you, Mingo, all of Boonesborough owes you."

Mingo grinned, "Oh Daniel, if I had not gone, you would have tried it yourself," he hesitated, "You reckon?"

Daniel laughed at his friend's odd vocabulary. "I reckon."

Jemima spoke up, "Mingo, guess what Ma has cooking inside?"

Mingo went over and took the young lady's hand, and bowed from the waist.

"Miss Boone, the aroma of Rebecca Boone's Irish stew called to me all the way from the Kentucky river. But first I think Songbird has something for Israel."

"Fer me?" the youngest Boone asked.

Songbird walked over to Israel and held out her closed hand. The boy's puzzled eyes went from her, to his parents, to Mingo, who gave him an affirmative nod.

"Go ahead, Israel. Take what is in her hand," Mingo said.

The blond-haired lad put out his hand. She dropped a small round object in it. It was the stone he had given Mingo to toss at her.

The Cherokee shook his head yes to the boy.

In Israel's youthful, amorous innocence he put his arms around Songbird's waist and hugged her. Then he ran and jumped into Mingo's arms again. The Cherokee patted his behind then put him down again. Israel raced over to his parents shouting,

"She said yes! She said yes!"

* * *

Mingo leaned back from the big table where they all were enjoying the mid-day meal together.

"Oh Rebecca," he groaned. "My shirt is going to burst open. I do believe this was your best Irish stew ever."

"You always say that, Mingo," Israel said.

"So I do, Israel, so I do," He winked at him.

The lady of the house had her kettle and dipper in hand, ready to give the Cherokee a third helping.

"You are too thin, Mingo. We need to fatten you up."

He stopped her from spooning any more on his plate.

"No, no. I could not eat one more bite. I have already eaten two helpings of stew and half of that loaf of fresh bread over there."

The spoon went back into the kettle as Rebecca leaned in between he and Songbird, "It is so good to have you safe and at our table again. And you too Songbird."

"It is good to be here with you and Daniel and the children again, "Songbird said.

Israel's eyes were dancing and his behind was fidgeting on the bench.

"Israel, is something wrong? You look like you are going to bust." Songbird asked him.

Under the glaring stare of his sister he cowered, "No, ma'am." and hurried back outdoors.

"Well," Daniel said, "Can't keep a good man like Is'rul inside on a spring day like this one."

"Yes, it was good to see the budding trees on our journey here," Mingo added.

While Mima cleared the dishes, Rebecca poured them all a cup of coffee. Mingo cleared his throat and took Songbird's hand in his.

"Rebecca, Daniel, Songbird and I would like you all to attend our vows of marriage. It will be in Songbird's meadow where we first met."

Rebecca sat down by Daniel, "Oh we would love to come, wouldn't we Dan?"

The big man nodded, "Wouldn't miss if for the world."

"When?" Rebecca asked.

"Songbird and I have agreed when the sunflowers bloom in her meadow, late summer."

"Sounds fine," Daniel said.

"Us too?" Jemima spoke up. "Me and Israel?"

Mingo stood up and put his arm around the blushing young lady. "It would not be a family celebration without you and Israel, Jemima."

The young Boone woman laid her head on his shoulder for just a second.

"Thank you, Mingo."

"Very well then," Mingo said. "We are going to see Cincinnatus and give him the good news as well. Rebecca, do you need anything?"

"No, Mingo, thank you. You go ahead and have a good visit."

"Daniel? Are you going to come with us?" Mingo asked his friend.

"No, I better stay here for a bit. The General, I mean Becky has some chores for me to do," the big man said. "You'll be learnin' bout that sooner than you think, Mingo." He looked at his red-headed wife who was shaking her head. "I'll be along directly, you go on ahead."

"All right then, are you ready, Songbird?" Mingo picked up his rifle. The Choctaw maiden picked up his pack to carry. "Oh I do not believe I will need my pack. You can leave it here." Songbird laid it back down on the table and walked to the door.

She didn't see Mingo gesture to Rebecca who nodded yes. Mingo's smile lit up the cabin as he joined Songbird outside.

* * *

The last vicious snowstorm that almost finished the settlement of Boonesborough left its mark on the land. The hearty settlers were out in full force cleaning up and readying the ground for spring planting. On their walk to the fort many came up to Mingo and Songbird to thank them. The men shook his hand and tipped their hats to her.

"If it hadn't been for you, Mingo, we'd a been goners," Isaac Crandall, said, shaking his hand vigorously. He and his wife, Marie had moved to Kentucky along with Tupper from Pennsylvania.

Humbly, Mingo thanked him back. "Isaac, if it hadn't been me, one of you other men would have thought of it, I wager. And do not forget, you still owe me a rematch in that game of checkers."

Isaac laughed as he went back to his work, "Ma'am," he said politely to Songbird. Marie waved from the porch where she was churning butter.

"They are good people," Songbird told him, and put her arm through his.

"And _you _are a hero," she chirped.

He took her hand, "And _you _are a heroine," he chirped back.

"I did nothing," she remarked curiously.

A kiss on the cheek was his answer. "You saved my life."

It was the same as they walked through the main gate of Boonesborough. Men and women thanked him for what he had done. They welcomed Songbird and thanked her for the generosity of her people. Not once but twice in one year, the Choctaw had sent much needed supplies to the settlement.

As they approached Cincinnatus' place, Mingo pointed to a ladder leaning on the side of the tavern. The rhythmic pounding of a hammer on the roof was suddenly interrupted by a loud shriek,

"Doggone !! Dagnab it!! You gosh darn .…."

"Tupper!!" Mingo shouted just in time.

Abruptly the blue language subsided and Tupper appeared at the edge of the roof. A sheepish grin emerged on his face when he saw Songbird. "Mingo!" He climbed down the ladder, shook the Cherokee's hand, then took off his hat. "Sorry ma'am, for my language," he said to her, "I kind of lost my temper when the hammer missed the nail and hit my thumb."

Songbird took Tupper's hand careful not to touch the bruised thumb. "Oh Tupper, this must hurt very much. Maybe Cincinnatus has some witch hazel to help make it feel better."

Mingo watched her and the way her gentle touch softened the rough fellow whose face was now the color of a ripe tomato. "Come inside with us, Tupper, while we say hello to Cincinnatus. I believe I still owe you and Isaac an ale from last fall for all the work you did in my absence."

Tupper slapped the Cherokee on the back. "I believe we owe you a lot more than that, Mingo. But come to think of it, an ale might taste good after all the work I done on that roof today."

Mingo and Tupper entered the establishment before Songbird. Empty for the most part, the regular patrons were outside working hard on their homes. There were two or three peddlers having a meal. Much to Mingo's dismay, Swede and Tolliver were at a table in the back.

Mingo tried not to let their presence bother him, but he did not like the way they stared as he and Songbird approached the bar and Cincinnatus.

Mingo felt Songbird shudder when she saw them. She had told him they made her feel uncomfortable the last time they were there. Mingo made certain she was between he and Tupper as he hailed the proprietor.

My good man!" Mingo shouted and pounded on the wood. "How about some service here?"

Cincinnatus was drawing an ale for one of the peddlers when the bar shook under him. At the sound of Mingo's voice Cincinnatus set the tankard down and hurried over to them.

"Mingo! Songbird! You are a sight for these tired, sore eyes, the both of you." He came around to them, grabbed the Cherokee's hand and shook it off his arm. "Durn fool thing you did, Mingo. We owe you…."

Mingo wouldn't let him finish. "Thank you, Cincinnatus."

"And pretty little Songbird," the crusty tavern owner said, "You just light up a room when you enter."

The smile on Cincinnatus' face even made his beard sparkle.

"Oh Cincinnatus," Songbird beamed. She reached into her small pack. "This is for you from my father for the tobacco. Give me your hand please."

The proprietor looked at Mingo in confusion. Mingo shrugged his shoulders. Cincinnatus stuck out his hand. She put on his wrist a leather braided strap with several colored beads and fancy stitching on it. "It is representative of the Choctaw. You will be welcomed at our village any time."

A second Boonesborough man had now fallen to blushing at her charm.

"Ahem," the raspy voice of the third party at the bar. "How long do we have to wait to get an ale here?" Tupper growled.

"Tupper!" the smile suddenly left the face of the tavern keeper. "You're 'sposed to be fixin' my roof!"

"Mingo wanted to buy me an ale," he answered in quick response. "_And _I hurt my thumb."

Cincinnatus grabbed the now bruised and bloody digit.

"Owwww!" the "_wounded_" man yelled.

"Lord o' mighty you only been up there five minutes. Come on out back I got somethin' I can put on that."

Cincinnatus looked at the couple. "I'll be right back and get you an ale, Mingo and some tea for you, Songbird."

* * *

Mingo and Songbird stood at the bar, his arm around her. The sliding of Wade Tolliver's bench across the floor alerted the Cherokee. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the two trappers moving toward them. Mingo stepped in front of Songbird putting himself between them and her.

"Well now, Swede, appears like our half-breed here got himself a pretty little Indian maiden to fiddle with," the husky Tolliver taunted.

Mingo could feel his anger grow by the throbbing in his chest. The two trappers stood side by side, outnumbering him. Swede was closest to the bar, while Tolliver moved in toward Mingo and Songbird.

Tolliver looked over Mingo's shoulder to her, "Why you must be that pretty little Choctaw we been hearin' bout. Havin' our Cherokee's heart right in the palm of your little red hand."

"That will be quite enough, Tolliver," Mingo said quietly. "I am warning you."

Tolliver paid him no mind and kept looking at Songbird, "What's your name little…" and reached to touch her. But the vulgar name he started to say to her never made it out of his mouth. Mingo's elbow went into the trapper's middle and with his right hand on the side of Tolliver's face, he sent the husky man reeling into tables and benches.

Swede pulled his pistol and drove the barrel end of it into Mingo's ribs. The Cherokee grabbed his side and fell back against the bar in pain. Swede tried getting the powder and shot into his pistol when a roundhouse left from the Cherokee sent him to the floor.

Songbird stood trembling at the two against one odds.

"Are you all right?" Mingo asked her.

"Yes, are you?"

He nodded to her, then grabbed the 250 pound Tolliver by the front of his shirt and lifted him up off the floor. Mingo slammed him up against the wall, then slammed him again. The Swede loaded his pistol and aimed it at Mingo's back, when the clicking hammer of a long rifle stopped him.

"I wouldn't move if I was you," the grizzled voice of Cincinnatus Jones advised him. Tupper reached down and took the pistol from the surprised trapper's hand.

Mingo was oblivious to what was happening behind him. A seething rage had over taken his normally peaceful nature. Wade Tolliver could not move. The powerful arms of the Cherokee had him pinned against the wall.

With a voice like the growl of a stalking mountain lion, Mingo began,

"I try my very best to tolerate vermin like you because I have many good friends among the white man. And because half of the blood that runs through my veins is white."

Mingo took a deep breath.

"But now you have crossed the boundries of my patience."

Tolliver tried moving to no avail; when he tried a second time Mingo slammed him harder.

"Listen to what I am going to tell you, for I will say it once and once only. You may call me whatever you like; half-breed, Boone's Injun, filthy redskin, savage, but you will not refer to this woman as anything but that, a woman. On second thought it would be best if you did not speak of her at all. It would be best if you did not look at her at all. And if you _ever_ try to touch her again I will _kill_ you with my bare hands."

"Come, Mingo, Songbird's voice was unsettled. "It is not worth getting angry over these men."

Tolliver looked at her and called her the name he had tried calling her before.

The flames of a frenzied ire coursed hotter than Hades through Mingo's Cherokee blood.

His powerful forearm across Tolliver's chest trapped the sleazy man. He could not move or breathe. Slowly with his right hand, Mingo unsheathed his knife. Placing the cold steel blade across Tolliver's neck, he let it break the skin until it bled.

"Ain't anybody gonna stop that crazy redskin?" Swede yelled.

Mingo had the trapper where he wanted him. Tolliver did not twitch, one slip and his jugular vein would be severed.

"Mingo, _please_," Songbird pleaded.

* * *

The air inside the establishment was still, when the door opened and a tall figure entered.

Daniel Boone looked all around. Cincinnatus motioned to Songbird who was shaking. The big man had a pretty good idea what had happened.

"_Mingo_," Daniel's calm voice spoke. "Whatever they done, whatever they said, it ain't worth spoilin' the life you got planned with Songbird is it?"

The Cherokee's shoulders were taut with rage.

"If you kill him, Mingo, it will be me that will have to take you to Salem and I don't want to have to do that. I want to go to your wedding instead."

Mingo glared at the man whose life he held in his hands. Slowly he took the knife away and backed off, never taking his eyes off the man. Tolliver reached up to his neck and felt the blood, but said nothing.

Tupper helped Swede to his feet and pushed him over by his partner.

"You boys get outta here," Cincinnatus waved his rifle at them. "And don't bother to come back. I don't need and I don't want your business or your kind in my place."

"Make that Boonesborough too," Daniel added. "Don't ever show your faces inside these gates again."

Tupper opened the door and the two men went out, but not before hurling a look of hatred toward the Cherokee. Mingo still stood between them and Songbird.

Daniel and Tupper escorted the two trappers to the gate of the settlement. Daniel waited until they were out of site, "Tupper, follow them. Make sure they don't double back and see what direction they head in."

The burly man nodded, "All right, Dan'l."

* * *

Back at the tavern, Mingo and Songbird sat at one of the tables. The sweat of his anger shone on his copper-colored skin.

She held his hand, "I have never seen you so angry."

"I have never been so angry. I am sorry if I frightened you."

Cincinnatus brought him an ale. "No, thank you, Cincinnatus, maybe some water."

"Comin' right up," he answered.

Daniel returned to the establishment and went up to the bar. Cincinnatus began to pour the ale back into the barrel. He told him just what had happened between Mingo and the two trappers.

"Ain't never seen Mingo that riled before, Dan'l."

"Well, Cincinnatus, he never had anyone to protect like Songbird before, lessin' it was Becky or my young'uns."

Daniel took the tankard Cincinnatus had in his hand and went over to the table where Mingo and Songbird were sitting.

"That was close, Daniel," Mingo said. "It was lucky for me you came in when you did."

Daniel smiled, "I think it was luckier for Tolliver…nah, I don't think you would have killed him, Mingo."

"I am glad you think so, Daniel."

"Well anyway," Daniel told them, "They are long gone and won't be bothering anyone around here anymore."

The tall one looked at Songbird with his crooked grin and made her smile.

"That's better. Now did you tell Cincinnatus your big news?

"What news?" the tavern keeper joined them at the table. Gossip always a priority with Cincinnatus. He had a tankard of water for the Cherokee.

Mingo took Songbird's hand as he did when he told the Boones. "Songbird and I are going to be married this summer."

"Well what do you know about that?" Cincinnatus' eyes lit up like a proud uncle.

"And we would like you to attend, Cincinnatus, if you can get away," Songbird said.

He clapped his hands together, "Why you couldn't keep me away with a team of oxen." His gaze went toward his stock of potables behind the bar. "Shall I bring some of my Blue Thunder?"

"Ahh, no Cincinnatus, although a thoughtful gesture, we do not want any of 'us injuns' getting too rowdy," Mingo joked.

The group of friends shared a laugh together at Mingo's light hearted humor.

"Splendid," Mingo said, "Then my Cherokee family, Menewa and Teckawitha will be there, my white family will be there, my new Choctaw family will be there and most of all, my bride will be there."

Only Songbird saw the twinkle in Mingo's eye that was meant for her.

Tupper bounded in the door, "They're gone, Dan'l. Headed up north toward the Maple Hills. I heard em talkin' earlier about trapping up there this season."

"Good," Daniel said. "Thanks, Tupper,"

Mingo stood up, "Before we leave, Cincinnatus I still owe Tupper that ale, and here's enough for Isaac's too the next time he comes in."

Tupper's eyes lit up.

"How in tarnation am I supposed to get any work outta him if people keep buyin' him drinks!" Cincinnatus mumbled on his way to the bar.

"I ain't had one yet! Keep gettin' interrupted, fightin' yahoos and savin' lives and such," Tupper winked at the other three who were standing by the door.

Cincinnatus set the full tankard in front of Tupper and joined the trio.

"Well I sure am happy for you two, Mingo and Songbird. And you made an old man feel special with your invite." He turned away when tears started, took out his handkerchief and wiped his nose. "Durn spring flowers!" he sputtered. " So how long are you here for?"

Mingo put his hand on the older man's shoulder, "We will be leaving tomorrow morning. I want to show Songbird Wild Geese Lake."

A light shone in Cincinnatus' eyes, "Oh that's a good place……I mean to stop….I mean for the night." He stumbled on his own words.

"Yes well," Mingo rolled his eyes at him. "We will let you know when our special day is, in plenty of time." They waved to Tupper who managed to wave back with his tankard of ale in his hand and closed the door behind them.


	13. Chapter 13

SPRING

Chapter 13

The brisk waters of Birch Tree River refreshed him as Mingo finished an early morning swim. A rising sun would have to dry him quickly as he raced to the rock where his clothes were. "Brrrrrr," he shook the river out of his long dark hair as much as he could, and shivered as he pulled on his blue, woolen trousers.

They had said their goodbyes to the Boone family the night before . The next time they would see them together would be their wedding day.

Songbird was still asleep in his lodge.

Last night, wrapped in his blanket by the outside fire, the stars overhead had lulled him to sleep. This morning the song of a mother robin woke him early. Mingo stoked the fire, put the coffee on, and headed for the river to bathe. There was a time when he hated the water. Now his day was not right if he did not start it with a brisk morning swim.

Happiness suited him as he pulled on his moccasins, bracelet, and armlet and his feathers. Walking back to camp he would try to let his hair dry before putting his shirt back on. The April air was still cool and a wet collar and shirt would chill him all day if he didn't.

* * *

Songbird was warming herself at the fire, engulfed in his blanket. She turned when she heard him coming. "Oh how she loved to see him this way, strong shoulders, broad chest and handsome as the pines were tall. His walk was a proud one like a great warrior or Chief, like her father, Standing Bear.

Happiness suited her too.

She stood when he got to her and threw the blanket around his shoulders. His shirt fell to the ground. When he gathered her in his arms, the blanket fell to the ground beside his shirt.

Always his warm body and kiss comforted her more than any blanket.

"Did you sleep well, little one?"

"I did. And you?"

"I always sleep well when the sky is above me and the earth is beneath me."

"And when we are married?" she posed the question.

"Then I will sleep well; wherever and whenever, as long as we are together."

She snuggled closer to him. Nowhere did she feel safer than in his arms.

"Those men?"

His finger went to her lips. "They are gone," he assured her. "Are you ready to go see Wild Geese Lake?" He had told her much about it.

"I will hurry and bathe and then I will be ready."

Mingo nodded and sat down by the fire. He poured himself a cup of coffee. Songbird left the warmth of him and started toward the river, then turned back. She picked up the blanket and put it around his bare shoulders.

By the time he had broken up camp, she returned, clean, awake, and ready to go with him.

* * *

Wild Geese Lake was small and pristine, full of trout just waiting to jump onto a fishing line. Surrounded by giant evergreens, it was a favorite place of Mingo and Daniel's to camp. So much so that the big pine log they leaned against to sleep was solidly embedded into the ground. And the permanent fire pit they built kept them warm and not wanting for hot coffee. If there had been a roof, the campsite could have been made into a nice lodge, but neither man wanted to give up his overhead view of the stars.

It was a central point between Boonesborough and many of their destinations.

Mingo thought it would be a good place for he and Songbird to stop for the night on their way back to her village.

And he had something special he wanted to give to her tonight.

Wild Geese Lake was the perfect place.

The first warm days of spring are always a welcome surprise. The morning was bright and warm. New buds basked in the sunshine and overhead the geese were winging their song of return. For Mingo, this spring was like no other he had ever experienced. It truly felt like a beginning, a new and wonderful life lay ahead of him and his Songbird.

They stopped only for a short rest at mid-day, Rebecca had packed them some of her fresh-baked bread and strawberry preserves, one of two jars that she had managed to save through the winter. Mingo could see that Songbird had a sweet-tooth of her own. The rest of their walk was a pleasant one, so many places she had never seen and so many places he wanted to show her.

"The more time I spend with the Boones, the more I like them," she told him. "And Cincinnatus makes me laugh."

"Cincinnatus makes everyone laugh," Mingo added.

The sun was warm on his bare arms, but in an hour when it would begin to go down he knew it would cool off quickly. They had arrived at the special place.

"Here we are, " he told her. "Just in time, we've been walking for quite a while. Are you getting tired?"

"A little," she answered him.

"Me too."

The Cherokee guided her through the pine trees to an opening by the lake.

She could see the lived-in appearance of the campsite.

"Daniel and I stop here often. Good water, good cover, and good fishing," he said.

Songbird sat down on the log while he gathered some firewood and water for the coffee. He was not gone long.

'It is a beautiful place," she thought.

Mingo bent down on one knee and fidgeted with the fire. Before long a little wisp of smoke arose from the kindling. The coffee pot she fixed sat perfectly in the spot where it had set by the fire many times before.

"Let me guess," there was a coyness in her voice.

"Yes. What are you going to guess?" He indulged her coyness.

"You sleep here on the left side and Daniel sleeps here on the right side."

His dark brows perked in wonder.

"Now how did you know that?"

She laughed. "Am I right?"

"Yes, you are right. How did you know that?"

"It is obvious," she announced, and pointed to the ground in front of the log where the dirt was packed down in two places.

Mingo stood up, crossed his arms and stared at her and at then the ground..

"Well it is not obvious to me. What are you pointing at?"

The young maiden stood up beside him, her arm went around his waist.

"Those are your footprints."

"Yes."

"And those are Daniel's."

"Yes."

A smile came to his face.

"Ahhhhh now I know. Because I wear moccasins and Daniel wears boots. His prints are most certainly heavier than mine."

Songbird shook her head no.

"What do you mean, no?"

She pointed again to the two places where the grass had been worn away and the dirt packed down. One of them was just a little bit farther away from the log than the other.

"Daniel's legs are longer than yours. He is much _taller_ than my Cherokee warrior," she kidded.

Mingo's lips pursed tightly in a scowl, but his dimples gave him away. The fire in the pit burned as hot as the love between the two of them.

She leaned in close to him and whispered.

"It _is_ beautiful here."

* * *

The campsite sat up on a knoll looking down on to the lake. Pine trees intermingled with oak, birch, and poplar, ran all along the shoreline. It was a haven for the wild geese on their fall and spring journeys, while some of them chose to stay here all year round. A well-worn path through the underbrush led down to the lakeshore.

"Would you like some fresh fish for supper?" Mingo made sure his rifle and pack sat by the log within easy reach. "I am an expert fisherman, unlike your tall friend, Daniel," he teased.

She warmed her hands over the fire, laughing at his remark.

"I am still full of Rebecca's bread and jam, but I would like a cup of coffee while we watch the sunset together."

It sounded perfect to him.

As the golden hues of the setting daystar shimmered across the water they sat and watched a pair of wild geese swimming in perfect unison side by side. Mingo poured them each a second cup of coffee and pointed to the male goose.

"He looks much like a warrior, does he not, with his long black neck and slash of white war paint to impress his mate Do you know that the wild goose mates for life? If one of them dies, the other lives in solitude for the rest of its life."

He felt her tremble.

"What a sad thing for the one left behind, to face a life alone without its partner," she sighed.

_"I-na-ge-hi Sa-sa-v-ni-go-di V-dal-li," _he said. "Wild Geese Lake."

The minutes turned to an hour as they watched the sun disappear. Mingo placed a blanket from his bedroll around her shoulders then reached into his pack.

"I have something for you."

The flames of the campfire made the light in her eyes even brighter. Mingo placed a small, square object in her lap. Wrapped in a piece of soft, new buckskin, it was the size of one of Rebecca's loaves of bread. His arms around her kept the blanket from falling off her shoulders.

"Go ahead and open it," his voice had just a hint of excitement in it.

Songbird took off the cloth. It was small hand-carved box made of rich, red cedar wood.

On the top three characters carved in child-like writing:

M, then a tiny heart, then S.

"Mingo loves Songbird," he whispered to her.

She began to cry as she ran her fingers over the letters. On the back of the box were two tiny, gold hinges and a gold clasp on the front.

"Look," he said and lifted it open.

Inside it was lined with a piece of fine, red velvet cloth.

"The wood of the cedar tree is sacred to the Cherokee. Daniel carved the box from one that had fallen down in a storm," Mingo told her.

The young woman closed it and ran her fingers over the grain again.

"Cincinnatus had the gold hinges and clasp. He said he was saving them for someone very special that he had not met yet---until he met you."

"And Israel carved the letters all by himself."

Mingo opened it up again as her hands were trembling.

"The velvet material is from the trim on Jemima's Christmas dress last year. She had some extra she had been saving."

Mingo could see the young maiden was overwhelmed. He squeezed her tight.

"And this is from me."

On the red velvet he laid out a beautiful cameo hanging on a delicate golden chain.

"The gold chain is from Rebecca. It belonged to her little sister who passed away last year. And the cameo---was my mother's, a gift from my father to her."

The glow of her countenance filled him with a feeling that he had thought was long since gone from him, never to return.

"They did this all for me?"

Mingo nodded, as he placed the cameo around her neck.

"And from you too?" she murmured.

"I was going to wait until our wedding day, but I just could not---and I _knew_ that Israel could not."

She simpered at the thought of the little boy carving "Mingo loves Songbird." on the box. "So that is why all the whispering and funny looks."

He rolled his eyes and nodded yes.

"Your mother's?" her voice trailed off in a whimper as she held the cameo in her hand.

"Talota would have loved you--as I do," he whispered and kissed her on the cheek.

"My little chou-chou," he said.

She lost herself in his dark, warm eyes.

"Chou-chou?" she queried.

"When I was first in London, a small, lonely Indian boy, I felt most at home with the servants in my Father's giant house. The cook's wife was French and would call me that, 'Mon petit chou, my little cabbage.' She was the closest thing to a mother I had for many years."

Songbird took his face in her hands, "_My_ little chou-chou," and kissed him back.

Mingo stirred the embers in the fire and threw more wood on it.

The beautiful Choctaw woman laid the box down on the piece of buckskin and reached into her own pack She took something out of it and stood up.

" I too, have a gift for you."

His face lit up in anticipation.

"Please stand up," she told him.

"My mother and I made this for you. I finished it in your lodge the other night."

It was a new vest, one they had worked on for many hours. The cloth was elk skin, darker than buckskin. No sleeves as he liked and fancy-colored stitching on the shoulders. On the front, stitched into the material was a wild goose in flight on one side and a tall pine on the other. It was open all the way down in the front, with four leather ties.

"It is very beautiful," he told her.

"Let me see if it fits." Songbird held it up to him.

She helped him take his shirt off over his head and slip the new vest over his broad shoulders.

"It fits perfectly," Mingo told her. "And a very fine vest it is too."

Songbird began tying the laces together.

"You see we thought if it is a very warm day you could untie these and you would be much cooler with your vest open."

The maiden then undid the first tie, then the second. Mingo could see the sprite-like look in her eyes as the third tie was undone, then the fourth. Her hands went inside the vest and around to his back.

Her touch pleased him.

"That was very nice of you and your mother to think of my well-being. One should never be over-heated in the hot summers that we have here in Kentucky."

His dimples began to show as he looked at the pack where she had hidden the vest.

"And may I ask, in that satchel of yours is there a matching breech-cloth that you and your mother fashioned for me, to go with this fine vest, to keep me even cooler?"

She pinched his chest.

"Ow," he flinched.

"You are a bad man." She looked him in the eye and let her hands slide down to his lean waist. He bent in to kiss her and she began to tickle him.

Songbird knew his secret.

In between his laughter, he tried to admonish her.

"You must stop that now,"

He took her hands in his.

"It is not seemly or manly for a Cherokee warrior to be ticklish."

Their lips met in a deep kiss.

Then he touched the stitching on the vest.

"Do you know when I will wear this fine vest? On our wedding day this summer."

She looked longingly into his eyes.

"Mingo, I have one more gift for you." She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "We may want to be married before the summer."

All of his Oxford education had not prepared him for this moment.

"I do not understand," Then his eyes opened wide. And she nodded yes.

"I am carrying your child," she murmured.

The words echoed in his head and the feeling inside of him was indescribable. He picked her up in his arms.

"Our child," he whispered and pulled her close to him.

* * *

They both were silent as the time for sleep approached. Mingo sat with his rifle close by, leaning up against the log. Wild Geese Lake was far enough away from the Shawnee or the Creek that they were safe. But he sat up on lookout out of habit, a blanket over front of him. The night air was cold. He could see Songbird trembling under her covers as she lay asleep beside him.

"Chou-chou," he whispered.

She turned and he opened his blanket. The beautiful young maiden he loved scurried to his side and snuggled close to him.

His Songbird was asleep in minutes.

Mingo looked to the sky.

"How am I to be so fortunate?" he spoke to the stars.


	14. Chapter 14

SPRING

Chapter 14

Their eyes opened at the same sound, the pair of wild geese were welcoming a new day on the lake. Mingo still wore his new vest and Songbird, her cameo.

"Good morning," he greeted her.

The sun was beginning to peek through the evergreens. Mingo stretched up to the warmth of it and stood, tucking the blanket back around her. "I have kept you away from your mother and father for many days." The embers glowed as he poked at them and added more kindling. "Are you ready to go home today?"

"My home is with you," Songbird answered. She tossed the blanket off, stood up and watched as he fixed the coffee pot by the fire.

"Coffee and corn cakes, or bread and strawberry preserves?" he asked her.

"My corn cakes or yours," she smiled as she stood over him.

"Mine of course, I have tasted yours. That is if I have any of my sugar left in my pack."

Her fingers started to go to his ribs, where he was the most ticklish.

He jumped up quickly.

"None of that."

The lake was calm as was the wind. The pair of geese were honking to each other while they swam. Songbird pointed to the winged couple.

"I think I will let you make your corn cakes while I join them and bathe before we leave if that is all right."

Mingo got the supplies he needed out of his pack.

"You go bathe and when you return a breakfast fit for a princess. Do you see that break in the brush, the path leads directly down to the water."

He watched, making sure she found her way to the water, then he came back to the fire.

The air smelled of new life this morning, fresh and clean. He took out his knife and sliced up some jerky into small pieces. She will not be long, the water will be like ice, he thought and started the corn cakes.

* * *

The path to the lake was lined with greenery. The edge of the water only a few steps away from a large rock. Songbird slipped out of her dress and into the cold water. It took her breath away for only a moment as she swam toward the geese. Her tiny form barely broke the surface of the water. Clean and refreshed in minutes, she could smell the coffee as she stepped back onto the shore. Her long dark hair stuck to her back as she reached for her dress she had placed on the rock. She put it on over her head, but before she could fasten it two massive arms grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground.

She screamed when she saw who it was.

* * *

Back in Boonesborough Daniel Boone was in the tavern and general store.

"I need some plantin' supplies, Cincinnatus. Gonna plant me a extra big crop this year so's I can take back to the Choctaw some of what they gave us."

"Wish I had me enough time to fiddle in a garden, instead of runnin' this place. Would feel good again havin' my hands in the soil, workin' the land." the tavern keeper said.

Daniel perked up, "Well, Cincinnatus, when it comes time to start diggin' taters out of the ground. I'm gonna remember that."

The door flew open and an out of breath Tupper ran in.

"Dan'l! Dan'l!"

"Take it easy, Tupper. You're gonna split yer britches," The big man said.

Tupper held onto his chest. "Isaac saw 'em, down by Mingo's camp."

"Saw who?" Daniel asked.

"Tolliver and the Swede, last night." He held on to his chest trying to catch his breath.

"Last night!!" Cincinnatus bellowed. "Why you just tellin' us now?"

Tupper was frantic, "I never seen Isaac til this mornin' and he didn't know nothin' bout Mingo's trouble with those two."

"Don't matter now, we gotta get after em," Daniel said, "You know they're followin' Mingo and Songbird." He went for Ticklicker at the door.

"Wait for me, Dan'l!" Cincinnatus shouted, You ain't goin' without me."

"Nor me," Tupper said. "I'm sorry, Dan'l."

"Ain't your fault, Tupper, ain't nobody's fault. Why don't you go get Isaac,"

Tupper interrupted him. "He's meetin' us here, went home for his gun."

Daniel sent one of the young Matthews boys home to tell Becky where he was going.

They would be at Wild Geese Lake by mid-day.

* * *

The corn cakes were done and warming by the fire. Mingo started toward the lake. She had been gone longer that he thought necessary. Without any warning, the pair of geese hastily took flight.

Then he heard Songbird scream.

His knife in hand Mingo tore through the underbrush to the lake, his heart pounded in his chest. When he reached the shore, there were two men. One standing holding a pistol, while the other had Songbird down on the ground.

The Cherokee let out a bloodcurdling war cry and charged them. Swede Anderssen turned and fired. Mingo felt the rifle ball go deep into his left shoulder. He fell, but not before slicing open the Swede's forearm.

The blond-haired trapper dropped his gun and grabbed the wound to try and stop the bleeding.

Mingo got up and went after the second man.

Songbird saw the blood on Mingo's vest..

"Mingo, no!!!" her screams turned to muffled cries, and then nothing. Wade Tolliver's hands were over her mouth and around her neck.

Rage-driven strength allowed the wounded Cherokee to go after him. He picked the big man off of her and threw him into the lake. Before Mingo could get to him and finish him, another rifle ball tore into his right leg.

Swede had reloaded.

Mingo went to one knee, refusing to go down.

Tolliver came out of the water, with a rock in his hand smashed it across the Cherokee's head.

Mingo fell to the ground.

Dazed for only a moment, the talking and laughing brought Mingo back to his senses. He heard them as they left, "I guess Boone's Injun and his squaw won't be goin' anywhere but the happy huntin' ground now."

It was Tolliver's voice,

"Come on, Swede, you been cut worse skinnin' a rabbit. Let's get outta here. Let the coyotes finish 'em. We'll hide out down in the bottoms until things quiet down. That cave by the creek, nobody knows about that but Ray and he'll make sure we have supplies."

Mingo waited until their voices were gone, then with all the strength he had left, crawled over to Songbird. When he reached her, she was still. Her dress had been torn open. He closed it and gently took her in his arms. Oblivious to his own pain, Mingo made his way to the large rock. He leaned against it holding her close to him.

A pained smile appeared on her face. "Mingo," she whispered.

"Sh, sh, sh, little one," he answered.

"You are hurt?" she reached up and touched his face where Tolliver had hit him with the rock.

Mingo gently stroked her hair and shook his head no.

"I am fine. I am here with you."

After a deep and labored breath, she smiled.

"My tall Cherokee warrior," her voice trailed off

He read her lips.

_"Gv-ge-you-hi_. I love you, Mingo."

Then she was gone.

"Please, no, do not leave me," he cried.

Tears streamed down his face and onto her lips as he kissed her.

"_Chi hullo li_. I love you, my precious Songbird."

Mingo raised his eyes to the sky, " Great Spirit and Creator, I pray, take me with her."

He pressed his cheek to hers.

And all went dark.

* * *

It was too quiet for Daniel when he reached their campsite at Wild Geese Lake. Immediately he saw the signs that something was terribly wrong. Mingo's rifle leaned up against the log untouched. Burnt corn cakes, scalded coffee pot, still warm embers in the fire pit.

"It ain't right, Dan'l," Cincinnatus said. "It ain't right." His voice trembled.

Tupper's voice screamed from the lakeshore. "Dan'l!!! Hurry, come quick!!! Hurry Cincinnatus!!! Please!!!"

Daniel and Cincinnatus came at a dead run. Daniel got there first. Tupper was down on his knees by Mingo and Songbird. Daniel bent down, looked at Songbird, then at Tupper who shook his head no.

"I couldn't feel no pulse on her, and Mingo's barely breathing," Tupper managed to say. "Isaac is takin' a look around."

Mingo stirred when they took Songbird's body out of his arms.

"No, please," he moaned then fell back against the boulder, unconscious.

Tupper took off his coat and laid it over the young maiden's lifeless body.

Daniel turned to his blood brother who was motionless. He opened Mingo's vest and put his ear to his chest. There was a faint heartbeat. He saw the hole in Mingo's shoulder.

"Get a fire goin' Tupper," the big man said. Daniel took out his handkerchief and put it on the wound in Mingo's shoulder. Then he noticed the blood on the Cherokee's pants. He ripped open the bloody tear in the blue woolen material to see the second rifle wound just above the knee.

"Oh Lord," Daniel muttered and tore a piece of his own shirtsleeve. He wrapped it tight around Mingo's leg. The Cherokee roused for a moment then no movement again..

Cincinnatus was two steps behind Daniel. When he got there and saw the little maiden who had charmed him, he fell down to his knees.

"Aww Dan'l, not little Songbird, not her," he put his head in his hands.

The big frontiersman had to put his rage and sorrow aside and take over.

"Cincinnatus, listen to me. There ain't nothin' we can do for Songbird now but take her home to her people. Mingo is still alive, barely, but he's still breathin'. We'll rig up a litter so's you and Isaac can get him back to Boonesborough, but first you got to tend to him."

The fourth man returned from his search.

"Ain't no sign of anybody around," Isaac said.

Tupper had the fire going and Daniel's knife was already in the flames.

"Cincinnatus?" Daniel queried.

The older man was taking it hard.

"Yes sir, Dan'l," he said, and wiped his eyes.

"Let me take a look at him." Cincinnatus said.

Daniel handed him his pack with the medical supplies in it.

"We gotta get them rifle balls out," Cincinnatus said, "And get that bleedin' to stop."

Cincinnatus had doctored all three of the men with him at one time or another. While he and Isaac worked on Mingo, Daniel and Tupper wrapped Songbird's body in a blanket.

"Nothin' but downright pure sin and evil," Tupper mumbled. "A sweet little innocent..." he caught himself.

Daniel and Tupper rigged up two litters one for Songbird, and one for Mingo. Once while they worked, they heard Mingo cry out as Cincinnatus dug one of the rifle balls out of him, but only that once. After that it was silent, the only sound was the water lapping up on the shore of the lake.

The familiar odor of burning flesh was in the air as Cincinnatus cauterized the wounds with the hot knife blade.

Daniel came to him, "Is he?" the words wouldn't come.

Cincinnatus rolled down his shirtsleeves.

"He's still breathin', just barely. Bleedin' stopped some. Shoulder wound's not as bad as the leg. Rifle ball may have nicked a bone goin' in."

"Is he strong enough to make it back to Boonesborough?" Daniel asked him.

"Oh he's strong enough I think, if he _wants_ to make it back. It'll be up to him and the Good Lord o' course," the bearded man said.

"We're gonna go after those madmen ain't we, Dan'l?" Cincinnatus asked him. "They ain't gonna get away with this?"

Daniel gave him a look of assurance, "You know me better than that, Cincinnatus. They won't get away with this, but let's just get Mingo back alive 'fore we do anything, and get poor little Songbird back to her family."

Daniel patted the older man on the back. "We'll be back to Boonesborough just as soon as we can." He bent down and looked at his blood brother lying on the litter, pale and weak. "Don't you give up, Mingo. Don't you stop fightin' We ain't done buildin' Kentucky together yet, you and me."

The Cherokee was covered up to his neck with the blanket he and Songbird had shared the night before. Daniel put his hand on it where Mingo's heart would be and was silent for a moment. Then he stood up and went to Songbird.

"Keep him alive, Cincinnatus," Daniel said.


	15. Chapter 15

SPRING

Chapter 15

Mingo was awake, he knew he was awake and yet he prayed he was dreaming. There was pain in his shoulder and leg…but there was more pain in his heart. Why was he still alive and not Songbird?

And he knew where he was, the familiar bed with the curtain drawn around it. The crackling warmth of a roaring fire in the fire place. And the squeak of a rocking chair in which Rebecca Boone was sitting, waiting for the first sound of him stirring.

The memory of the nightmare at Wild Geese Lake burned deeper than the two rifle balls that had invaded his body. And where was she? What had they done with her body---"her body" he gasped. His Songbird was gone--her lifeless body in his arms on the shore of the lake was the vision burning in his memory.

He fought the pain and threw back the blanket that was over him. Moaning softly he sat up, holding onto the bandage that was around his chest and shoulder. No sooner had he done so than the curtain opened and there stood Rebecca. She tried to hold him back,

"Mingo, no," she held on to him gently.

"Rebecca, let go of me," he cried. "Let me out of this bed!"

His grief-filled strength was more than she could handle.

"Mingo, lay back down please," she pleaded.

But he would not, he got his feet on the ground and stood up. He wore only his woolen pants, no moccasins. The pain in his leg was almost unbearable.

"Dan! Dan! Hurry please!" Rebecca shouted.

The door to the Boone cabin flew open and Daniel entered. He grabbed the wounded man just as his knees buckled under him.

Mingo's emotions began to well up inside when he saw his blood brother.

"Mingo, sit back down on the bed before you hurt yourself even more."

His voice began to break as he looked around the cabin.

"Daniel, please I do not want the children to see me like this."

The big man held onto his friend as he slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.

"They're not here, Mingo. They're visiting the Sloans for a couple of days."

Mingo's hand went to his forehead.

"How did you find us?"

"Isaac saw Tolliver and Swede nosing around your camp and told Tupper."

"Those butchers!" his pain-filled voice cursed.

The silence in the room was deafening.

"Where is she?" Mingo swallowed.

Daniel nodded to his wife to leave them alone.

"Tupper and I took her back to the Choctaw camp to her father and mother. Cincinnatus and Isaac brought you back here. You were bleedin' real bad and needed doctorin'."

Mingo shook his head.

"You should have let me die with her, Daniel. How long has it been? How long have I been here in bed?"

The big man tensed.

"Four days."

"Four days! I have got to get to her before they bury her," he said and tried to stand. He ended up leaning on his tall friend again.

"Lie back down, Mingo. You'll start bleedin' again."

Mingo tried desperately to push his blood brother away.

"Do not treat me like a child, Daniel!" he barked.

In a calm, low voice Daniel answered, "I wouldn't think of treating you like a child, Mingo, not now, not ever."

He looked Daniel in the eye, laid his head on the big man's shoulder and sobbed.

"I am sorry, Daniel, so sorry."

It was the saddest voice Daniel Boone had ever heard. He patted his friend on the back and steadied him.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Mingo. Not here, not with me, not with us."

He helped him sit back down on the bed and put two pillows up against the headboard.

"Lean back here at least, Mingo."

Mingo grimaced as he did what his friend asked. His leg throbbed as Daniel helped lift it up on the bed. Wiping his eyes, Mingo took a deep breath to compose himself.

Rebecca peeked shyly around her husband. She had a small cup of broth in her hand.

The look on Mingo's face softened.

"Come in, Rebecca, please. I must apologize for my behavior."

She handed Dan the cup, sat down on the side of the bed by Mingo and put her cheek next to his.

"I am so sorry, Mingo. And you don't have to apologize to me for anything."

She held him and they wept together.

* * *

A week had passed since Cincinnatus and Isaac brought Mingo to the Boone's cabin. 

"Menewa was here?" Mingo asked Rebecca. She nodded, "Yes, for two days he and Teckawitha sat at your bedside. When he was certain you would recover he said he needed to get back to Chota. So they left, but said they would be back very soon."

Mingo was quietly contemplating the visit from his uncle.

"He said when you are strong enough to travel you must come back to Chota to heal," Becky told him, "And he also said for you to remember the peace that was always in Talota's heart."

Mingo looked away, "I will not heal from this," he said quietly. "And there will never be peace in my heart while those murderers are still alive."

Rebecca looked at her husband who shook his head.

Daniel was filling his powder horn and putting extra shot in his pack. When he put his buckskin coat on and took Ticklicker from her spot by the door Mingo struggled to his feet.

"Where do you think you are going Daniel?"

"I'm going after them."

"Not without me you are not," Mingo looked around for his shirt. Disgusted, he sat on the bed and managed to get one moccasin on. The other would be much harder as he could not bend his bad leg. The rifle ball had nicked the bone, enough to make it very painful even with the wound healing. He stood up again, grimacing as he did so and started toward the door. He made it as far as the supper table and fell onto one of the benches.

"Ahhh," he moaned, out of breath.

Daniel put Ticklicker down and sat down beside him. "How far do you think you would get? One shoe, no shirt, and you can't even walk on that leg."

"I will crawl if I have to," Mingo struggled. "This is not like Tara-Mingo, Daniel. I let you go on your own after him, even though it was my place."

"But you followed me anyway," Daniel said.

"Yes, and it was a good thing I did." he looked to the floor. "This is different. These butchers are mine, no one else's. If you go after them without me our friendship, our brotherhood is over."

Daniel took the powder horn and pack from around his neck and laid them on the table.

"All right, I'll wait. Now let's get you back into that bed."

Mingo did not move or look at his friend. "One more thing, Daniel. I will let you be at my side to go after these, these men." His voice struggled not to break. "But I will tell you now, when I find them I will kill them. Do not try to stop me, Daniel. Do not try to persuade me to bring them back to stand trial in a white man's court where they will make her sound like a ...," He stopped. "…where they will let them go free because she was _only_ a Choctaw..."

"Mingo, you need to take some time and think about what you are saying. You are too emotional right now."

Mingo gazed at the man he called brother, "Emotional? You need to take some time, Daniel, and listen to what you are saying. Close your eyes and think, truly think. And may the Creator forgive what I am about to say. But think what you would do if it was Rebecca that laid on that lakeshore and not my Songbird." Tears began to stream down his tanned face, but he continued. "Songbird was carrying our child, Daniel. And they murdered her all because she loved me and because she was an Indian. She deserved to live, our child deserved to live. We deserved to have a life together as you and Rebecca and your children have. Do not tell me that I am too emotional. Not _this_ time."

"I'm sorry, Mingo. I didn't know, I'm truly sorry," Daniel said.

"I did not know either, Daniel. She waited to tell me that night after I gave her the gift."

He breathed deeply to keep from breaking.

"Come on, Mingo, you've moved around enough for today."

Daniel put his arm around his friend and helped him back to the bed.

* * *

Three more days passed, the Boones could not keep Mingo inside any longer. They knew his wounds were still painful, but not enough to keep him from going after the men that killed Songbird. 

The fever was gone and no mortification had set in. Mingo was healing fine on the outside. "The kind of healing he needs now, I can't give him, Dan'l," Cincinnatus said when he came to see his patient. "Wounds of the body will heal over time, wounds of the heart take an eternity." he told the Boones.

The old tavern keeper sounded as if he knew from experience.

Mingo had one more visitor while recovering. Running Deer, Songbird's brother brought word from their parents, Chief Standing Bear and his wife, Wildflower, "Tell Mingo he will always have a home in our lodge and our village. And when he is strong enough, come to us."

Daniel tried to keep Mingo from going after Tolliver and Swede so soon. They sat out on the porch of the Boone cabin.

The sun was warm on Mingo's face. More and more each day he walked from the bed to the porch and then out into the yard. Gauging his strength and the amount of pain he could stand from the wounds of the fateful morning.

"Mingo, aren't you going to go see her parents?" Daniel asked him

Mingo looked toward the horizon.

No, Daniel. By now they have buried her. They have pulled up the stakes and she is on her way to the Happy Land."

"Pulled up the stakes?" Daniel queried.

"The Choctaw bury their dead very soon after their death. They cut seven stakes, each one longer than the one before it and firmly plant them into the ground around the grave. In a semi-circle with the seventh and longest stake being farthest to the West. The Choctaw believe that the Happy Land lies to the West. "

He could see Daniel was listening to every word. "A small loop of a vine or cloth is then tied to each stake. The loops help the spirit pull itself from the grave and guide it to the Happy Land. After the funeral feast where the invited relatives are present the oldest male member of the family pulls the stakes starting with the furthest away, ending up at the gravesite and the shortest stake. The family sings songs, but not sad death songs like the Cherokee. The Choctaw do not mourn their dead, but celebrate their lives, their memories…."

He cleared his throat, "How they made you smile……or how happy they made you."

Mingo stood up slowly, holding onto his leg.

"No, Daniel, she is dead and buried. Do they even know she was carrying our child, their grandchild? I do not know." He placed his hand on the door of the cabin.

"I will go see Wildflower and Standing Bear, and Running Deer after I have finished what I must do. First I have two other men to see."

He opened the door and went inside.

* * *

Jemima and Israel returned from the Sloans, saddened at the death of Songbird. They sat with Mingo and said a prayer for her and for him. Rebecca explained to them that Mingo was going to need some time to himself to heal. Both Boone children said their goodbyes the night before, knowing he and their Pa were leaving at the break of day.

The morning sun shone on the Boone cabin.

"Take care of him, Dan. He's hurting inside as well as out." Becky told her husband. "I've never seen him so quiet."

"Hate will do that to a man, Becky." Daniel checked his pack for all that they would need on the mournful journey he and Mingo were about to set out on. "I'm hopin' I can put out the fire that's burnin' inside him before we meet up with those two."

Mingo waited on their front porch sitting on one of the benches sharpening his knife. The door to the Boone's cabin opened and the frontier couple walked out. Mingo's arm was supposed to be in a sling. It was not. He sheathed his knife and stood waiting for a lecture from his "nurse."

Becky came to him and with no words gently put his arm back in its sling. She took his pack and handed it to her husband.

"Rebecca," the Cherokee said.

"I will let you go," she said firmly to him, "But only if you let Dan carry your pack and your rifle." Then she handed him the cane her father had left on his last visit.

He looked at Daniel who shrugged his shoulders.

"I will let him carry my pack. I will carry my own rifle," Mingo told her.

It was a matter of a man's pride to be able to defend himself.

The three of them stepped off the porch. The pack Daniel put over his arm was full of extra bandages, herbs and spirits needed just in case.

"You dress his wounds every day," Rebecca told her husband.

"Yes ma'am," he answered.

"Rebecca, please say goodbye to Jemima and Israel for me," Mingo's voice was pensive. "And tell them Songbird loved her gift and she loved them too."

She knew what he meant by "goodbye." She knew what he was planning to do. "Please come home to us, Mingo," She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "You are an important member of our family. The hurt may never go away, but in time you will learn to live with it."

He nodded, and walked toward the trail.

Daniel gave her a kiss.

"Please be careful," she whispered. "Bring him and you home safe."

"We'll be careful," he kissed her again. "We'll be home.


	16. Chapter 16

SPRING

Chapter 16

The rifle wounds in Mingo's leg and shoulder were healing well, but the nicked bone in his leg was not. He needed to walk with a cane or a stick; if not the wound could open up again. By his "doctor and nurse's" words he also needed the sling for his arm.

When Mingo felt he was out of the watchful eye of Rebecca the sling and the cane went flying.

"I will have my pack now, Daniel."

Daniel rolled his eyes, "Maybe _you_ like taking your life in your hands, goin' against Rebecca Boone, but not me. I'll hold onto it."

They would start their journey at Wild Geese Lake to try and pick up a trail, even a ten day old one. The two of them were the best trackers in the Kentucky wilderness.

The blood brothers had blazed many trails together, none as sorrowful as this one. Mingo could always keep up with his long-legged friend. But today he noticed Daniel's steps were not quite as long. They had been walking for close to an hour.

"Daniel, you are purposely walking slower than usual today. I can keep up with you and if I cannot, I will tell you."

Daniel stopped and sat down on the stump of a fallen oak tree.

"Mingo, I am not walkin' slower on purpose," he lifted up his right foot. "I'm tryin' to break in some new boots, and they don't want to be broke in. I may be usin' some of them bandages Becky packed for you, for _my _blisters."

Mingo's lips pursed in doubt as he looked at his friend.

"And Mingo, you and I both know you would _not_ tell me if you couldn't keep up. You'd just keep trudgin' along until you dropped over. I ain't about to let that happen."

Mingo leaned up against the same stump and took the weight off his leg. The pain was not too bad so far, but he knew it would be hurting by nightfall.

Daniel took a drink from his canteen and handed it to Mingo, who took a drink.

"You gonna be all right stayin' at Wild Geese Lake tonight?"

Mingo closed up the canteen and handed it back to him.

"I guess I will have to be, won't I, Daniel?"

The big man stood and put his hand on his friend's shoulder to let him know he would not be alone.

"I reckon," Daniel answered.

"Then let us continue," Mingo said.

* * *

Birds were singing, bees flew around their heads. It looked the same, Wild Geese Lake…as if nothing had happened. The log with the worn footprints in the ground, the dug-in fire pit, the pine trees, the geese. No one could tell that ten days before a terrible, horrible killing had taken place here.

It was close to sunset. Mingo had the fire going and the coffee warming. Daniel volunteered to catch dinner. Mingo knew why. He wanted him to rest after the first day's walk. MIngo spread their blankets on the ground and leaned back against the log. His eyes slowly closed. He awoke to the smell and sound of sizzling trout in the frying pan.

"See there, Mingo, you're not the only one who can pull those trout out of the water."

Mingo grinned, "Only six? And what are you going to eat, Daniel?"

Daniel's crooked smile came into view. It was the first hint the old Mingo was still alive under all the grief he was suffering.

Mingo made some pan biscuits before falling asleep. They were warming by the coffee pot. Daniel plated three of the trout and handed it to his friend .

"Two is quite enough, Daniel, thank you. You eat the rest."

"Are you sure, Mingo?"

"I am sure. I had a biscuit while you were fishing."

"Mmmmm good biscuits too," Daniel said with his mouth full.

The big man leaned back on the log and stretched out his legs. His feet exactly reached the worn boot marks in the ground.

Mingo chuckled.

"What?" Daniel asked between bites.

Mingo pointed to the marks in the ground and told him how Songbird had figured out which was his and which were Daniel's.

"Daniel is much taller than my Cherokee warrior," she said to me in that little teasing voice of hers.

Daniel smiled at her words, 'Tall one.'

"She could not wait to meet you, Daniel," he said. "And your family."

Mingo stood up, limped over to one of the tall pines and leaned against it. He stared out over the lake.

Daniel put down his plate and went to him. "Mingo, I am as sorry as you will ever know about Songbird."

Mingo leaned his back against the towering tree and crossed his arms on his chest. " I am too, Daniel. Funny is it not how I always shied away from matrimony. I never thought it would be possible to find anyone as special as your Rebecca. " his voice trailed off.

"No, Mingo, it is not funny. We'll find those killers and bring them back to stand trial. Justice will be served." Daniel said.

"Your idea of justice and mine are not the same, Daniel," The Cherokee limped back to the fire. "I am going to turn in, how about you?"

The big frontiersman added some more wood to the fire and joined him.

Daniel and Mingo were quiet as they lay stretched out on their blankets. Both were gazing up at the stars.

Mingo had other plans for these men, but he was not going to take Daniel Boone down with him.

* * *

The wild geese honked as they broke up camp to continue their search for Songbird's killers.

"I better change the dressings on your wounds, Mingo, or Becky will skin me alive." He helped Mingo take his shirt off over his head and checked the wound in his shoulder. "Looks fine," he said. "But still needs a little of Becky's salve and a fresh bandage."

With a clean bandage on Mingo's shoulder, Daniel began to change the dressing on his leg wound. The Cherokee flinched when he took the old bandage off.

"Hmmm, too much walkin', Mingo, you broke open this wound."

"Just wrap it tight, Daniel. It will be fine."

"All right," the big man answered.

Mingo flinched again when Daniel wrapped the bandage snugly on the leg. "I've been meaning to ask you, Daniel, did any one of you happen to find Songbird's cameo necklace. She was wearing it when she went to the lake to bathe that morning?"

Daniel put the medicine and extra bandages back in his pack. "No, I don't recollect seeing it anywhere, but I'll be glad to go down there and look for you."

Mingo hadn't been back to the scene where it happened. "No, Daniel, I think I will go down and wash up a bit. I will look around."

They both stood up.

"All right," Daniel said. "I'll finish packin' up."

Mingo needed to face this alone.

* * *

Nothing had changed as Mingo walked the path that led to the lakeshore. The same rock, same trees, same water kissing the shoreline. He found a rock close enough to the water that he could sit and not have to bend his bad leg too much.

"Ahhh," he grimaced, as he sat down.

The cold water felt good on his face, neck, chest and arms. He was careful not to get the bandage on his shoulder wet. Looking back at the very spot where she was murdered, he trembled inside and threw more of the cold lake water on his face and neck.

He put his shirt back on and walked all around, but there was no sign of the special gift he had given her. Tolliver and Anderssen obviously took it and will try to sell it.

As the horrible events of that morning rushed back into his head he remembered something he hadn't before. When the two killers were leaving, Tolliver said, "Let's hide out in the bottoms, that big cave by the creek…."

Mingo now knew where his search would begin…..and he would search alone. These monsters would not be brought back alive to stand trial in a white man's court. He was going to make them pay or die trying.

The matched pair of wild geese were swimming peacefully as he walked up the path to camp.

He did not look back.

* * *

It was cloudier than the day before, no sun to warm up the early spring air. They walked until mid-day before stopping.

Daniel noticed his friend favoring his leg just a bit.

"You okay, Mingo?"

The Cherokee nodded. "I would be lying, Daniel, if I said my leg did not hurt a little, but it will be fine after a few minutes rest."

They were quiet.

"How 'bout some jerky?" Daniel reached into his pack, "Nuthin' better n jerky to take a man's mind off things." He handed Mingo some.

"Daniel, I have been pondering and I think we should split up. We could cover a much larger territory that way. Don't you agree?" The Cherokee bit off a piece of the chewy dried meat. He could see the suspicious look on the big man's face.

"Don't you agree that they will not go back toward Boonesborough and they will not go toward the Choctaw village. So that would mean they will either go north into the hills or south to the bottoms."

"Sounds logical," Daniel nodded and chewed.

"Good. Then you agree we should split up? I will go to the bottoms and you can head north to the hills. We will meet back at Wild Geese Lake in say three days?"

"No," Daniel's answer was blunt.

"What do you mean, no?" You just said it sounded logical."

"It does sound logical," Daniel agreed. " I just don't think it's a good idea."

"But," Mingo stammered.

"Mingo, don't try and fool me. I know you _too _well. Why are you so all-fired up about going to the bottoms? What makes you think they are going there?"

Mingo's head dropped. "Because that is what I heard Wade Tolliver say when they were leaving. They thought I was dead and could not hear them."

Daniel stood and laid Ticklicker across his arms as he always did when a long walk was ahead of him.

"C'mon then, we'll go to the bottoms together."

* * *

Mingo nodded in silence. He walked beside his tall friend for a half an hour or more. With each step they got closer and closer to the bottoms. Mingo was quiet, perturbed with himself at what he was planning to do.

But it must be done, to protect Daniel.

He let the big man get a few steps ahead of him.

"Ahhhhh!," Mingo moaned.

Daniel turned to see him lying on the ground, holding onto his leg.

"A woodchuck hole, I did not see it," he said writhing in pain. "I think it is broken."

Daniel hurried to his side and knelt down. "Let me have a look. Cincinnatus said he thought the rifle ball had nicked the bone." He turned to put Ticklicker down and never saw the hilt of Mingo's bullwhip coming. With one swipe to his forehead, Daniel fell back dazed.

"I am sorry, Daniel. You are too stubborn to know when you are wrong."

Mingo stood over him as he came to. He was sitting on the ground, tied to the trunk of a sycamore tree, his hands behind him.

"Pretty good actin' job, Mingo," Daniel said, motioning to his "broken" leg

"I am sorry, Daniel. But these butchers are mine. They will not live to breathe another day when I catch up with them."

He placed Daniel's rifle, pack and canteen near to him. He would not leave him without water or his gun.

"You'll be sorrier if you do this, Mingo.,"

"Daniel, I can not be any sorrier or feel any emptier than I do right now. No court in Salem will ever let a white man be convicted and hanged for killing a Choctaw woman or _any_ Indian for that matter," his anger seethed. "They will twist and turn the law into what they believe is justice and then let them go."

Mingo unsheathed his knife, "When you come after me to try and stop me, and I know you will. You will have to kill me." He waved the blade in front of Daniel's eyes. "The next time you see me, I will have their scalps hanging from my belt. or I will be dead."

Mingo looked to the sun. It was well past setting, the clouds had cleared away and the moon would be full tonight.

"I will wager you will be free of your bonds by morning. That will give me enough time to do what I am going to do. Come after me if you must, but do not expect a welcome greeting if you try and stop me from handing out some of my own justice."

"It ain't justice, it's revenge," Daniel remarked.

Mingo turned and walked toward the place he knew the killers would be.

Daniel twisted and pulled on the ropes, but they were too tight. Mingo had done his work well.

"Mingo!! Don't do this. You'll regret it the rest of your life! Mingo!" he shouted.

But his shouts fell on deaf ears.


	17. Chapter 17

SPRING

Chapter 17

Mingo knew the cave Tolliver spoke about by the creek. It was Elk Creek His plan was to walk all night under the full moon and reach Elk Creek by daybreak. He would rest for a few hours. By the way his leg was throbbing now he would need to rest.

Then he would find them and kill them.

Mingo walked all night. So many times he wanted to stop and rest, but he knew if Daniel by chance had gotten loose his pace would be much faster than his own. One thing he did do was cut himself a walking stick. His leg was close to giving out on him.

Mingo reached his destination by sunup. He found a big oak tree to lean on and dozed for longer than he wanted to. When he woke the sun was overhead. The cave was a quarter of a mile ahead of him.He knew a way to approach it without being seen. As he walked, the forest was alive with the greenness of spring, but all he saw was death.

Even the birds in the sky overhead circled as if they knew what was about to happen.

The ridge he stood on was just above the entrance of the cave. It looked down on a clearing that led to the creek. His heart pounded when he saw them….both of them. Swede and Tolliver stood side by side, each leaning on a tree. Neither of them held a weapon that he could see.

Mingo laid down his rifle and unsheathed his knife. He had made a vow to himself, a vow of revenge.

He walked slowly and silently toward them. Their scalps would soon be his.

* * *

Under the rising moonlight Daniel twisted and stretched on the ropes. When he realized that was not the solution he began to rub them on the tree trunk. He could feel the heat from the friction of rope against wood and the moistness of the blood from his own wrists, but he did not stop. It was dark when he finally got loose. He tried to rub the soreness out of his wrists and the ache out of his backside. Then he grabbed his pack and Ticklicker and set out. 

Daniel knew he could walk much faster than his wounded friend. And there was something else to his advantage, he saw the telltale mark of a walking stick in the ground. Mingo had to resort to using a cane.

Daniel stepped up his pace.

* * *

Mingo's arm was around Wade Tolliver's neck. He raised his knife and placed it on the forehead of the man. One quick motion and Tolliver's scalp would be his. Then he would move on to the next man, Swede Anderssen. The Cherokee's grip tightened on the bone handle of his weapon Then a voice came to him through the wind. 

"I love my Cherokee warrior. I love his strength. I love his truth. I love his honor. But most of all I love his gentleness...his mother's gentleness."

Mingo threw his knife to the ground, walked around in front of the two men and put his face in his hands.

Wade Tolliver and Swede Anderssen had been dead for hours.

When he first approached them he realized they were both dead. They were each bound to a tree with green rawhide ties around their necks, chest, and arms. As the sun beat down, the rawhide shrunk, slowly and painfully strangling the life from them.

Someone had gotten to them before him. Stuck in the ground were two war lances adorned with feathers…….a signature.

Mingo knew who they belonged to.

Still he had planned to take their scalps, dead or not, until his Songbird's voice came to him.

He stood gazing at the bodies of the two men who stole love from him, who stole life from him, who stole happiness from him. Behind, a twig snapped. He turned suddenly and faced Daniel Boone.

"How long have you been there, Daniel?"

"Long enough to see you couldn't go through with scalpin' those poor devils."

Mingo's dark eyes flashed, "Those _poor devils _got just what they deserved and if I were any kind of a Cherokee warrior their hair would be hanging from my belt."

"You're no blood thirsty killer, Mingo. And don't forget you're half-white yourself."

Mingo looked at his blood brother.

"I am sorry, Daniel, but sometimes that half of my blood sickens me."

Daniel walked over to the bodies of the men who had murdered his best friend's love.

"Well, if it helps, Mingo, sometimes my white blood sickens me too." He touched the end of one of the war lances. " I see someone got to them before you."

"Yes and I will be returning these to their owners and thanking them." Mingo said as he pulled the lances from their resting place.

"So you know who did this?"

Mingo nodded, "I know."

Daniel began to cut the bodies down from the trees.

"Daniel, what are you doing?"

Tolliver's body fell limp to the ground. The big man moved to Anderssen.

"I'm gonna bury em. Do you have any objections to that?"

The second body fell to the ground.

Mingo turned away then looked back..

"I have mixed feelings, Daniel, and now is not the time. Do what you think best. I have my own grave site to visit." He started to leave.

"When you comin' home? My young'uns will want to know. I told Is'rul we would take him fishing at Wild Geese Lake."

The Cherokee looked back. "I do not believe I can ever go back to that place, Daniel."

The big frontiersman laid the two bodies side by side.

"Well we'll face that road when we git there. Jemima and Is'rul are still gonna want to know when you're comin' home, not to mention Rebecca, Cincinnatus and a lot more of the folks in Boonesborough."

The lump in his throat grew larger. "I do not know, Daniel. As for now I have another family to face. Please understand, and help them to understand."

Daniel stood up and walked to his friend.

"Time, Mingo. Give it time," he put his hand on his shoulder.

Mingo nodded. He picked up his rifle and pack that Daniel had found in the woods and brought to him.

Mingo's steps were in the direction of the Choctaw village.

* * *

Daniel found a place to bury the two men down by the Creek and dragged their bodies there. He took his blanket from his pack and tore it in two. It wouldn't cover their entire body, but at least it would cover their faces. Bending down on one knee, he placed the cloth over Wade Tolliver's face. How could such evil exist among his own people? Then a hand touched his shoulder, skin the color of the bronze leaves of autumn. 

The big man stood up and Mingo put out his other hand. They shook forearm to forearm, as they did the day they pledged to be blood brothers.

Mingo's eyes spoke friendship again.

"She liked you Daniel,." he hesitated "She said my white family was a good one."

"We liked her too, Mingo," Daniel had to hesitate himself.

Mingo took the blanket from his pack. "Here you will need this on your way back to Boonesborough."

"What about you?"

"I will be at the Choctaw village by nightfall. Your trip is at least two days.'

"Thanks, Mingo."

The saddened Cherokee looked at the two dead bodies on the ground.

"What did she ever do to them, Daniel? To deserve being murdered like that. She was as beautiful and as innocent as a newborn. We had our whole lives ahead of us." He had to stop for a moment to try and understand himself.

"Hate, Mingo. Nothing but the sin-filled hate of Satan. You of all people should know. You have faced it yourself more than once. It is one of the things I admire about you. You always try to give the white man the benefit of the doubt, even when it was your neck in the noose or your back at the wrong end of the whip. But this time the hatred was not physically hurtful against you, but against your Songbird. And that, my friend, is more hate than any man should be asked to handle."

Daniel placed his hand on Mingo's shoulder.

"Now go on and see Songbird's family and then go see your Cherokee family. Take some time for yourself."

"Thank you, Daniel." Mingo extended his hand to his brother.

"And, Mingo, when you're ready to come home to your family at Boonesborough …well you come home. We'll all be waitin'."

Mingo waved over his shoulder and walked toward her village.


	18. Chapter 18

SPRING

Chapter 18

Mingo walked until his leg began to weaken. He rested under a big pine tree for an hour or so and then went on. As soon as the sun went down he took a chill and put on his buckskin coat. Purposely, he avoided Songbird's Meadow and went another way to the Choctaw village. Not yet, he thought, maybe tomorrow.

He arrived at the village just after dusk. Wildflower embraced him. Standing Bear shook his hand as a father would a son. They saw how tired he was.

"Take Mingo to your lodge, Running Deer," Wildflower told her son. "I will bring you something to eat, Mingo."

"Thank you, but I am very tired. I will eat in the morning if that is all right," he said respectfully to Songbird's mother.

"First," she said, "Let me tend to your wounds. Running Deer will build a good fire in his lodge to warm you and you will sleep better."

They welcomed him as one of their own.

* * *

In the morning Standing Bear and Wildflower shared their morning meal with him in their lodge.

"I have returned your lances, Standing Bear," Mingo said as they sat with the fire between them. "I knew when I saw them in the ground who had taken care of the two men."

Running Deer and Standing Bear had avenged the murder of Songbird and the attack on Mingo.

The Choctaw Chief looked at him, "It is better that my son and I dealt with these men, Mingo. With the English blood in your veins, the white man would not have made your life easy had it been you who took those murderers' lives."

"But I was prepared to do so, Chief Standing Bear," Mingo assured him.

"This I know," Standing Bear answered him.

Wildflower brought them venison and bread. "Your wounds have not yet healed. You went after these men too soon, Mingo," She said. "Songbird would not approve."

Mingo held onto his shoulder. Wildflower, like Rebecca made him a sling and put his arm back in it.

"Let your body heal these wounds for you with time," she told him.

Running Deer joined them around the fire.

"These wounds will heal, others will not.," Mingo looked at Songbird's family sitting across from him.. "I will mourn for Songbird always."

"In our beliefs, Mingo we do not mourn the dead, but celebrate the life of the loved one," Standing Bear said. We remember Songbird with so many happy memories."

The Cherokee warrior sat quietly. "I would never do anything to disrespect the beliefs and customs of the Choctaw. For myself, I grieve for her. You had Songbird for all the years of her life. I had her but for one fleeting moment it seems," he swallowed hard. "I never knew such happiness. I never knew such peace as when we were together."

He was apprehensive, "And _our _child, did you know?"

Wildflower placed her hand on his. "Songbird knew before she left with you and told me. She was filled with so much joy and so proud and honored to be carrying your child."

"_Our_ child," he said.

Mingo put his hand over his eyes. "That makes losing her even harder." He looked up again. "There is an emptiness in my heart that will never be filled. And my spirit is like the ashes of your fire, consumed by her loss to a nothingness."

Mingo struggled to his feet with Running Deer's help. They went outside. The day was bright and warm. It would be mid-day soon. He picked up his rifle and pack that leaned against their lodge.

"You need to stay and heal with us here," Wildflower's hand went to his cheek. "You are still warm with fever," she said.

He smiled at the woman who looked so much like her. "She loved you, you know, all three of you. She spoke of only love and respect when she talked of you and she talked of you often."

Wildflower embraced him again. "Be well, Mingo and thank you for the happiness you gave to her."

He saw the tears of a mother in her eyes as he touched his cheek to hers.

Chief Standing Bear took Mingo's hand and shook it. "Wildflower and I want you to know you are always welcome in our lodge, in our village, in our family."

Mingo read a sadness in his eyes as well.

"I am honored, Chief Standing Bear," he said and put his pack and powder horn over his arm. "It is time for me to go say goodbye to her. Where is she?"

Her father took Mingo's hand one more time and placed in it, the cameo necklace.

"It was clutched tightly in her hand, when your friend, Daniel Boone brought her body to us. She rests under the big maple tree at the edge of the meadow." the older man told him.

Mingo felt his own heartbeat when he took the cameo from Standing Bear and placed it in the pack Songbird had made for him. He walked toward the meadow, turned and waved to them.

"I will come and visit before the leaves fall from the trees," he told them.

* * *

Mingo leaned back against the maple tree where she was buried. He looked out over the meadow where they had met for the first time. It was almost one year ago. He knew the instant he heard her voice that day.

"It was I," she said when he looked around to see who had frightened off the buck he was aiming at.

And when he saw her, his heart was never the same. It was love at the very first moment.

And now……she was gone.

The stakes had been pulled and Songbird was in the Happy Land.

His body ached, his wounds hurt, his heart was battered. Good sleep, comforting sleep had not come to him since her death. But the weariness of sorrow and grief caused his eyes to close. In a vision she came to him again. It was the evening of their first kiss, of her first kiss ever. They were in the meadow and playfully he lined her up with two sunflowers, one tall, one small, with her, his Songbird in between them.

It was a vision he would never forget, for he kissed her and then kissed her again. And they knew their love would be forever. He never told Songbird about that vision he kept with him inside and now it was vivid in his restless sleep. The two sunflowers with her in between them, and this time she seemed to be waving goodbye.

"Do not leave me, Songbird. I cannot go on without you," he murmured.

With a suddenness, he woke to the touch of a hand on his arm.

"It is only me, Mingo," Running Deer assured him. "I am sorry to interrupt your sleep."

"Not sleep," the Cherokee said, "Just weary rest." Mingo motioned for him to sit.

Neither spoke at first. Then Running Deer pointed to her grave. "I know I am to be celebrating Songbird's life and memory, but in truth, Mingo, I mourn her loss as you do." He smiled sadly, "I miss her smile and her playfulness. I miss her chirp."

Both of the brave men fought their emotions.

"A warriors' tears do not come easily, do they, Running Deer? They must be hidden in our strength. We are told by our elders. Yet mine have fallen like the rain from the sky as of late. Like when I was a boy," Mingo said.

Running Deer's face softened. "I have something for you." He handed Mingo a soft rabbit skin cloth with a small object wrapped in it. "This was to be yours from Songbird on your wedding day."

Mingo started to un do it. The Choctaw warrior stopped him. "Do not open it here. Open it at a place where you can let her spirit go. I think that is what she would have wanted now."

"There is no such place," Mingo said. "I can never let her sprit go."

"You will find that place," her brother told him. "She will guide you there." Running Deer stood up. "Mingo, Songbird loved life and she loved you. She would not want you to mourn her for the rest of your days. The sun will be setting soon, will you sleep here tonight?"

"I will try," Mingo answered.

"Then I will build you a warm fire. Do you have food?"

The Cherokee picked up an extra sack by his rifle. "Your mother would not let me leave without extra provisions."

Running Deer laughed, "I should have known that. I will get the wood for a fire."

The fire was warm, the food was good. Running Deer bid him a goodbye making sure he had plenty of wood nearby. Then the son of Standing Bear returned to his lodge in the village. They promised to meet in the summer and go hunting. Mingo slept better than he had in the last few weeks.

* * *

MIngo woke early, but not before the sun had come up to shine in his eyes. He added some wood to the fire. The coffee would be warm by the time he had washed. By the second cup he was ready to be on his way . His belongings were packed, but there was one more thing he had to do.

In the still loose ground around Songbird's grave he dug a small hole. From his pack he took a small object, wrapped in buckskin. A cedar box lined in red velvet, with golden hinges and one tiny gold clasp on the front. On the top of the box was carved in puerile writing, M then a tiny heart, then S.

_Mingo loves Songbird_.

He took off his shirt, and put on the vest Songbird and her mother had made for him. Rebecca had stitched up the bullet hole and cleaned the bloodstains as best she could.

Mingo took the cameo on the golden chain he had given her The cameo that she held in her hand so tightly her murderers did not see it. He held it to his heart, kissed it and laid it on the velvet. Then he closed the box, and wrapped it back up in the buckskin.

It fit perfectly in the hole he dug. He covered it up with the loose dirt and laid on her grave a fresh bouquet of wild flowers. The stems he bound together with the ties from his own braids. Mingo picked up his rifle and pack and looked to the West.

"I will be back when the sunflowers have reached up as far as they can reach, when the buck's antlers are wide and strong, and when the apples are almost ready to pick. You told me you were happiest when you were here. I pray to the Creator that when I return I can be happy too."


	19. Chapter 19

SPRING

Chapter 19

Mingo walked. Not sure where he was going, he let her spirit guide him like Running Deer said she would. The sound of her laughter filled his head. The touch of her was in the breeze at his back. When he realized where she was taking him an uneasiness came over him. Then just as quickly it passed. And he stood on the shore of Wild Geese Lake. The very spot where he said goodbye to her in death. He laid down his rifle and pack and rested on the large rock by the water. Out on the lake one wild goose swam alone.

Her mate was nowhere to be seen.

"You are alone too," he murmured.

He held Songbird's gift to him in his hand. Carefully he unwrapped it and lost himself in its beauty and meaning. It was one of Running Deer's polished stones. Dark and shimmering, the stone was black. Etched in white on the front were two sunflowers, one tall, one short and in between them a tiny songbird flew.

On the back the words, "_forever and for always, life_."

"She loved life, Mingo." Running Deer's words echoed, "And would not want you to mourn for her, forever."

The Cherokee looked out over the calm waters as the little goose swam closer. He squeezed the stone tightly in his hands. Tears would not come, only warmth and healing. This gift from her he would wear forever. He winced as he reached to untie his necklace. The wound in his shoulder was still sore.

"Need some help?" a familiar voice asked.

Mingo jerked, then turned to see the "tall one" standing behind him.

"Daniel, how is it you always manage to sneak up on me?"

The big man grinned, "I been waitin' for you."

He untied the necklace from around Mingo's neck.

"Good thing I wasn't Is'rul or you'd be handing over that knife of yours."

Mingo showed him Songbird's gift.

"It's beautiful, just like she was, Mingo."

"Yes it is." He let his blood brother attach the stone to his necklace and fasten it back around his neck. "Thank you, Daniel." He looked out onto the lake where the wild goose was still swimming and held tight to the stone.

"You know, Daniel, I think maybe Songbird has helped my healing to begin. It will be a long time, but it is a beginning."

"Are you ready to go home then?" the big man asked him.

Mingo nodded, "I think I am ready."

"Good," Daniel answered. "Time will help, and we got lots of that."

Mingo picked up his rifle as Daniel did his, but the big man beat him to his pack.

"Daniel," the native's eyebrows furled.

"General's orders," Daniel said with a grin, "She said when I found you to make sure I carried your pack and to make sure I bring you home."

Mingo drew a long breath, but gave in to Rebecca Boone's whims as always.

"First I will rest at Boonesborough, and then go to Chota for a time. When I return from Chota do you _reckon_ Is'rul would like to come back here with us and fish?"

The Cherokee's dimples were showing.

"Mingo, I believe you are makin' fun of the way I talk?"

"I believe I am, Daniel," Mingo smiled.

Daniel grinned, "Then I _reckon_ Is'rul would like to come back here with us just fine."

"Splendid," the Cherokee replied.

As the two blood brothers started on the trail home, the little wild goose took wing toward the West and her own flight home.

Mingo turned and waved to _Her_.

"Goodbye,_ little one_," he whispered. "_Chi hullo li_,"

The End


End file.
